You Can Pick Your Friends, But Not Your Family
by StrigoiVii
Summary: Everyone had secrets, especially the Winchesters. Usually, they find a way out, unless everyone that knows them is dead. My first fanfic, please r&r and be gentle, thanks.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is the first fanfiction story I ever wrote, so please don't hate me for it. I'm not really sure why I'm posting it, I just am. Hope it's enjoyed. (Remember, it's the first piece of crap I ever wrote, so be kind!)

Chapter One

Sam Winchester was in trouble. Serious trouble. He also knew that, at the moment, there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't see or hear his current enemy, but he felt it, looming ominously around him, ready to attack at any moment. It had been three days, three very long days, the evil growing stronger with each passing moment. The evil that was infecting his brother. The evil that is called boredom. The boredom turning Dean Winchester into a potential powder keg ready to blow.

"Sam, you've had three days to find us another gig, are you telling me that you still haven't come up with anything yet? You've been trolling that internet like a blood-starved vampire in the tampon aisle!"

"Dude, that's sick. Do you ever think before you speak, or do you just have diarrhea of the mouth?"

"Diarrhea in the mouth? And you call me sick! Come on man, tell me you've found something. I'm going stir crazy in this town, and now that we're up and running again, I want to haul ass ASAP! Just give me a direction and I'm there!"

Stir crazy was an understatement for Dean Winchester. They rolled into Benton, Kentucky (population 435) three days ago with a bad alternator and even worse attitudes, a couple of bad hunts to blame. Not that Benton was all bad, just wasn't anything good for a Winchester. The town consisted of two gas stations, neither of which had an alternator for Dean's baby, four banks (why does a town of 435 need four banks?), one grocery store, one motel, two diners, and twelve churches (12?). That's the south though, church on every corner instead of a Starbucks. And the topper of it all, Benton was in a dry county. That means, no bars. Which means NOTHING to do, for a Winchester that is.

The gas station attendant had to order the part for the Impala. They don't keep any parts in stock, as Dean was told. They just had gas, and snacks, and cigarettes. That took two days, and by the time it was finally delivered, Billy Joe Jim Bob (or whatever the hell his name was) had already gone home for the day. To make matters worse, the next day was Sunday. Nothing opens up on Sunday in a town like this, except church. Dean was ready to kill something, anything by this time. He had no release of any kind, no hunt, no bars, no nothing. Just Sam. Bad news for Sam.

"I've been everywhere the internet has in the last three days, I swear, there's been nothing. Absolutely nothing." Sam stated, knowing that wasn't what his brother wanted to hear.

"You've got to be kidding me, come on GeekBoy, I know you can find something. I'm even willing to save wayward cats from trees at this point," Dean was obviously ready to blow any second.

"Dean, do you ever relax, some day, you're gonna have an aneurysm or a stroke or …….." Sam's comment broken up by the obnoxious sound of the laptop screeching "You've got mail" echoing through the small room.

"What, is it, sending you their latest videos to watch? Boot 'em up dude, I'm desperate."

"Ha, Ha, Ha. You're friggin hilarious. Thank God you can laugh at your own jokes. At least someone does." With that, Dean gave Sam the old one finger salute. And Sam gave it right back, double fisted to boot.

Sam clicked on the e-mail he'd received, trying to block out his brothers voice. He hated being around Dean when he was like this. Sam had a lot of patience, and only his brother could grate on his nerves this way.

"Hmm, this is interesting, Poplar Grove, Illinois, seems there are two men dead and two missing in the last four weeks. All under mysterious circumstances. The first one cut off his own head with a sickle, the second hung himself from the roof of an abandoned farmhouse."

"How the hell do you cut your own head off? How the hell is that even possible?" Dean had seen a lot, but never someone cutting off their own head.

"It says here that Andy Wright and his buddy Kevin Ratliff were screwing around cow tipping. They got separated in a corn field, both ended up wandering up to the same abandoned farmhouse. Kevin found Andy in the barn with the sickle in his hand, said something about some really hot chick with the long, black hair, told him to do it, and lopped off his head. Cops believe him because Andy had a death grip on the sickle and Kevin had no blood on him. They figured if he did it, there would have to be blood somewhere. Second guy, Mark Bruno and his friend Dan Burke, were riding four-wheelers when they also got separated. Mark ended up at the same farmhouse, but by the time Dan got there, he was already on the roof, screaming something about the bitch with the long black hair telling him to do it. The other two guys went missing within the same square mile of the two that did themselves in, although no evidence of them turned up at said farmhouse. Poplar Grove only has a population of 1734. All four of them were local residents."

"Sounds more like 1730. So, what do you think? Some pissed off spirit in the farmhouse wanting to do men in?" Dean's eyes lit up, maybe they actually had something to do now, something to kill. "And what the hell is cow tipping?"

"Cow tipping, you know, running up to a cow and knocking it over when it's sleeping. Jeez Dean, we've been in enough small towns for you to know that, haven't we?"

"Sounds like a lotta fun, remind me to try it some day, with some really heavy boots on. Back to business, any ideas?"

"The farmhouse has no evil, bad, or supernatural history, whatever. Last family that lived there sold the land to a real estate development company two years ago. They are trying to build new homes on the iste, much to the dismay of the locals. Besides, this guy Dan Burke thinks he may have seen the mystery woman. Police don' believe him though, thinks all the trauma was making him see things."

"Let me guess, physical description a little unbelievable?" Dean rolled his eyes. He would believe it, more than likely.

"From the desciption the guy gave, looks like a ciguapa."

"A who a whatta uh?"

"A ciguapa. It's a creature originating from the Dominican Republic. They are legendary women that live in the high mountains in the Dominican Republic. They are nocturnal, they come out at night to look for food. It says that these women's feet are backwards, so you can never quite tell where the footprints came from. In some cases, people believe that they bring death, and are warned not to look them in the eye. Ciguapa is a magical being, beautiful in appearance to some, yet horrendous to others. All say they are wild creatures. They are compared to a mermaid--beautiful and cruel, they are far from innocent. They are said to have brown skin and black eyes, with smooth glossy hair the length of their bodies, They wear their hair as their clothes. Extremely deceitful, she is said to be so beautiful that men follow her into the forest, even though following her tracks is very difficult as her footprints point in the opposite direction. She is followed because of the promise that a beautiful woman is waiting. They say that if you do come across a ciguapa and look into its eyes, she will bewitch you and you forever will be under her power. The legend also says that ciguapas used to seduce men to have sex with them and then kill them."

"Jeez Sammy, you get that all off Wikipedia? You sounded like an f'n encyclopedia there for a second. Now, speak to me in English, you think one of these is in Illinois? Come on, that's a little far-fetched, even for us don't you think? Naked Dominican chick wearing nothing but hair killing men in Illinois? Like a supernatural Lady Godiva. Who the hell sent you that e-mail anyway?"

"The same person that sent us the poltergeist in Cleveland, the vampire in Lake Geneva, the werewolf in Des Moines, and the gwyllion in Gary. That was all sound information, and probably the easiest hunts we've ever had. Finished those hunts without a scratch. We even knew who the werewolf was before we got there, we just had to go in and take it out."

"Yeah, and who is this person that seems to be looking out for our best interests? It isn't Bobby, he would just call, and there aren't that many people out there we can trust anymore. So, spill it Sam, who is our little informant?"

"Does it really matter. Says all we need to do is find it and decapitate it. End of story. You wanted a hunt, here it is."

"I want to know who keeps feeding us information on hunts Sam. Did the thought ever occur to you that they may be feeding us this information because they are setting a trap for us? Send us detailed info on a few so that they end up easy, we start trusting them, then send us one that isn't really a hunt at all. Only a hunter would know all that shit to pass along to us. And let's face it, the hunters aren't exactly on our side lately, are they."

"Dean, stop being paranoid. We can trust the information we're getting. I know we can."

"How do you know we can Sam. Speaking of that gwyllion hunt? You ever hear of one of those before, because I sure haven't. There was absolutely no information about that thing in dad's journal, and yet, someone knew all about that thing. I just went ahead and trusted that information because it came from you Sam. I didn't know it came from some e-mail. "Who, besides Bobby, can we really trust anymore?" Dean's ears were getting red now which was a sign that he was getting really pissed now. Sam wasn't answering a simple question that didn't require a lot of thought to answer. All Dean wanted was a name, and Sam of all people should live under the same mantra Dean did, TRUST NO ONE! Dean had had enough of this game, and in one quick move, faster than Sam could close the windows on his screen, Dean was behind him, grabbing the laptop off the table and out of his hands.

"What the hell Dean, what is your problem?"

"I wanna see who's been sending you all the 411 Sam, and since you won't tell me, I'm gonna find out myself. Let's see, the messages are from……..Lou. You've been talking to Lou? When the hell did you two start talking again?" Dean's hands were shaking and he was visibly shocked and angry now. Sam was starting to think he was going to throw the laptop across the room any second now.

"After Dad. I figured someone needed to deliver the news, and I thought it should be one of us. Since the two of you aren't on speaking terms anymore, I knew it had to be me."

"And you just couldn't let Bobby do it? It's not like we didn't have enough to deal Sam. And I bet the two of you've been talking ever since, right?"

"Yeah, we have. And I don't see what the problem is anyway. We practically grew up together, and you weren't exactly easy to talk to then, were you. You shut me out after dad died. You didn't want to talk about it, you didn't want to hear it. You even punched me when I brought it up. I needed someone to talk to that would understand. You vented to Gordon, I vented to Lou. Lou loved dad as much as we did, and was a pretty good hunter once. I could talk to Lou when we were kids, and I still can now. I'm sorry if you have a problem with that Dean. You two used to be close too. What the hell happened between the two of you, anyway. You just suddenly turned off the switch like Lou never existed. You may be able to do that, but I can't."

"We didn't practically grow up together. Lou was already grown up when met."

"Lou was 12, you were 5, and I was 1.. Only in your world is 12 grown up Dean. So I guess, **I** grew up with Lou. You did whatever your twisted Dean mind did then."

"Sam, you're pushing it…."

"Maybe I am, but you're problems with Lou aren't mine, so, unless you have a good reason why we shouldn't talk, shut up, start loading the car, and let's go. We've got a hunt."

Shocked look on his face, Dean just looked at Sam, threw the laptop on the bed, turned around, grabbed the door knob, and started out the door. "You load the fucking car, I'm going for a walk." And with that, he slammed the door, leaving Sam alone in the room.

"That went well."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Dean wasn't angry. He was mad. Blood boiling, rabid dog, foaming at the mouth mad. Not because Sam was confiding in someone other than him, that was just Sam. Sam always needed to share his feelings, and frankly, Dean didn't have the emotional stability of his own to help Sam right now. He needed to work through his own turmoil before he could deal with anyone else's, especially Sam's. What made Dean so mad was that Sam was doing it behind his back, and with someone Dean really didn't want to talk to again. Not now, not ever. Dean cut that emotional tie a long time ago, and wasn't going to rehash it now, and there was no way in hell that he was telling Sam why. Some things are better left alone. Sam was right about one thing though, there was no doubt in his mind that Lou could be trusted, and would never put them in harms way intentionally. Of that, Dean was sure.

When Dean was satisfied he could look at Sam again without wanting to punch him in the face anymore, he decided it was time to go back. At least they had a hunt, albeit not much of a "hunt" from the sounds of it. It all seemed pretty laid out. Just get in the car, drop the windows, crank the music, and get the hell out of dodge. Trusty GeekBoy can map out the route on the way. Find it, decapitate it, salt it, burn it. Piece of cake, right?

By the time Dean got back, Sam had not only loaded the car, but had mapped the route and checked out of the motel. He was very patiently waiting in the car for his brother to return. Good bye to the Shamrock Motel, and Benton, Ky. Whoever said "it's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there" has never been to backwoods towns in dry counties for even a visit.

"Feel better?" Sam asked, a slight hint of sarcasm in the question, already knowing what the answer would be.

"I'm fine. Let's go." And with that, Dean got in the car, slammed the door, started the engine, and cranked up the radio. "You gonna tell me which way we're going, 'cause I don't think we're gonna get there by clicking our heels Dorothy?"

"Oh all knowing Wizard of Oz, last time I checked, Illinois was north. Try heading in that direction. I don't think you can miss it, you know, big state, middle of the country and all." Sam had no intentions of hiding his irritation with his brother, and if he pissed him off enough, he may just be graced with the silent treatment for most of the ride. And Sam was right. Dean gave him the pinky salute.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"That's for people that don't deserve the best!" Dean retorted, showing him what he meant.

"Hey Dean, you got two of those?" You bet Dean did. He proudly demonstrated both to Sam, along with a scowl.

"Stick them up your ass and walk on your elbows." With that, Dean's face turned blood red, and for one of the very few times in his life, he was speechless. Which effectively guaranteed the silent treatment for at least the next 6 hours. Which is exactly what Sam wanted right now.

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Just as Sam had expected, the majority of the ride was in silence, except for when Dean stopped once for gas after about 3 hours, telling Sam to take care of whatever business he needed to, get a sandwich, and get back in the f'n car. They had been traveling for five hours now, and weren't that far from their destination, thanks to Dean's temper-driven lead foot. Sam knew he was going to have to break the ice sometime, it may as well be now. They couldn't very well hunt something if they weren't speaking to each other, could they.

"Looks like there's nowhere to stay in Poplar Grove, nearest town with a motel is Belvidere, about 10 miles south. Either that or Rockford."

"Rockford! No way we're staying in Rockford. I'd rather eat nails and shit them out whole before I stay in Rockford again."

"OK then, Belvidere it is. We're about another hour and a half away."

"Belvidere better not be in a dry county 'cause the first thing I'm doing when we get there is getting a drink."

"Dean, it'll still be daylight when we get there, don't you think we should check out the farmhouse instead of wasting the rest of the day? It's only 2 in the afternoon now. By the time we get there and get a room, it'll probably only be 4:00, at the latest. We can check out the house and formulate a plan."

"I've already 'formulated' my plan, Sammy. I'm going to drink, get drunk, fall down, and pass out. That's my plan. It's a good one, and I'm sticking to it. Then, tomorrow, we'll have a nice breakfast at some greasy spoon in town, go check out the farmhouse, then kill us some evil son of a bitch. Oops, make that a bitch. It is female, right. Sounds like we have all the intel we need anyway. How much scoping out do we really need to do? Isn't it all in your little e-mail there?"

"Dean, I don't think,,,,"

"I really don't care what you think right now Sam. That's my plan. End of conversation." And it was exactly that, the end of the conversation.

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When they arrived at the motel, Dean was overjoyed at the sight of a bar right across the street. Thank God he wouldn't have very far to go. He wanted to check in fast and be on his way, preferably without Sam. Dean rambled up to the counter. The old man behind it eyed him curiously, then Sam.

"We'll take a room with a view please," Dean snorted.

"Well, what view would that be Tinkerbelle? On the left, you have the building next door, on the right, you have the other building next door, in the back you have the spectacular view of the building behind us, and in front, the street. What'll it be for you then?" Obviously the old timer wasn't amused.

"Hey Hey now, don't get personal. Two beds please, one for my brother, one for me. If all the parking is in the street, guess I'll take the view of the street. And maybe some extra towels, my brother there has 'accidents' every now and then."

"Shut up Dean, that isn't funny!"

"Room 3, up the stairs, third door on the right. Thirty-five a night. And an extra ten for the towels. How many you want?"

"I'm thinking two nights, yeah, two is good for now."

"Guess you'll be skipping the extra towels then, eh. I'm doubting you really need them anyway. That'll be seventy then."

"Pay the man Sammy." By the time Sam could say anything, Dean was half-way up the stairs.

"Bet he's a fun guy. That his general nature?" The clerk asked as he tossed Sam the key, rolling his eyes.

"You have no idea," Sam retorted. He paid the man, grabbed his bag, and headed up the stairs, Dean already long gone.

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The room was refreshingly clean, and pretty darn big by Winchester standards. It had two double beds, one very large nightstand between them, an even larger dresser, a lazy-boy parked in front of a TV, a mini-fridge, microwave, and coffeepot. All the comforts of home.

Dean made a bee-line for the bathroom, taking his bag with him, slamming the door and locking it behind him. It took all of five seconds for the shower to start running, and another ten minutes for Dean to emerge from the bathroom, fully dressed and smelling pretty damn good. 'Great, he's going hunting for something tonight, and it isn't what were here for' Sam thought.

"Don't wait up." That was all Dean said before he walked out the door.

"Why does he have to be such an asshole sometimes?" Sam asked himself this question, already knowing the answer this one too. It was always the same answer. It was just Dean.

Dean stopped at the front desk on his way out the door, one very important piece of information he needed the answer to.

"Hey gramps, that bar across the street serve grub and spirits?"

"Young man, grubs don't eat in restaurants, and neither do spirits. If you're looking for food and drink, yeah, they got it."

"Your funny, I like you gramps. Come on over later, I'll buy you a drink." And out the door Dean went.

"The feeling ain't mutual smart-ass." the old guy replied.

"Sorry, he has that effect on people. He's not usually like that." Sam felt the need to apologize for his brother. He was gracing everyone with Dickhead Dean at the moment. "Can you point me in the direction of somewhere to eat, other than where he went. Don't think he'd be very good company right now anyway."

"If you turn left out the door, three doors down is pizza. Turn right, four doors down is Chinese. Both are edible. Anything else, you gotta drive, and I can't guarantee that parking place will still be there when you get back."

"Thanks." And Sam left too. It was a little after 5:00 pm, and Sam was starving. It had been hours since he had anything to eat, considering Dean only stopped once on the way here, for all of ten minutes. He opted for Chinese, and headed to the right. It was going to be a long night.

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Dean stepped into the bar. It was small, and just about empty. It was Tuesday in a small town, after all. The two guys shooting darts glanced at him briefly, found him to be of no interest, and went back to their game. Two more people sat at the bar, one at each end like sentinels on guard duty. Dean shuffled his way up to the counter and plopped down on a stool. His presence did not go unnoticed by the hot little number behind the bar, nor did her presence go unnoticed by him.

"What can I getcha mister?" The bartender asked him, cute little southern twang in her voice, slight upturn to the corner of her lips. It didn't take Dean long to see the way she was looking at him. H's seen that look plenty of times before. It was the ' I'll take you home with me right now if I could just figure a way to get outta here' look. It was the 'Dean's gonna score' look. Guess this night might just end on a positive note after all.

"I'd like a double Jack, a Bud, and a menu, uhhh, Trish."

"Coming right up, darlin'." Dean studied her as she turned around as much as she studied him when he walked in the door. Blonde hair, blue eyes, about a size 2, and definitely a 36C. 'She should be a Hooter's girl' Dean thought.

She plunked the Jack and beer down on the bar and handed Dean the menu, holding on to it long after he tried to take it. "You just holler when you're ready to order."

"Oh, I'm ready to order. Burger, fries, and the Jack bottle in front of me."

"You got it babe. Be right back."

"Hey Trish, what time you close tonight?"

"Midnight, but I'm really a night owl. How about you?"

"Oh, I do my best work at night." Dean had to smile, he knew where this was going.

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The sound of his phone startled Sam out of the light sleep he had fallen into, computer on his lap. He let out a soft groan when he saw the caller ID. He also saw it was a little after 11:00 pm.

"What do you want Dean?"

"Um, hello. Is this Sam?" It was the soft voice of a young woman, not the gruff sound of his probably drunk ass brother like he was expecting.

"Yeah, this is Sam. Who wants to know, and where is Dean?" There was a slight hint of concern in his voice.

"Dean is praying to our porcelain god right now and looks like he's going to need some help getting home. Think you can come and get him. I can't seem to get him off the floor, let alone get him to leave. Our bathroom is not the most sanitary place to be face down in."

"Yeah, ok, I'll be right there. How much has he had to drink this time?"

"Downed almost a full bottle of Jack and five beers. Haven't seen anyone put away that much in a long time. He's gonna be hurtin' tomorrow."

"You don't know the half of it. I'll be right there." Sam slapped his phone shut and started putting on his shoes, wondering to himself 'what did I do to deserve this?'

Crossing the street, Sam took a long, deep breath before entering the bar. He would need all the strength he could get if he had to confront Drunk Son-of-a-Bitch Dean. God, he hoped it would be Pathetic-Chick-Flick-Moment-When-Drunk Dean. It didn't take long to find out which one it would be. One step through the door, and Dean's big mouth could be heard all the way to hell itself.

"Hey, look there. It's my baby brother Sammy. Sasqautch Sammy. Come here and give me a big hug."

"Let's go Dean. We've got work to do tomorrow, and you need to sleep this off."

"Oh, come on Sammy, sit down and have a drink with me. I haven't had an opportunity to say a proper good-bye to the lovely, and, oh, so talented Trish yet." The bartender's face immediately turned seven different shades of red, and she scurried into the kitchen as fast as her legs would carry her.

"No Dean, you've had enough. Let's go. NOW."

"Oh Sam, you're such a kill-joy, you know that."

"Yeah Dean, so you've told me before. Come on, let's go now. And I mean NOW!" Sam grabbed Dean by the arm, just about holding him up and walked him out the door.

"OK, OK, I'm coming. You don't have to push me Sam, I can walk myself."

"You think so?" Sam decided to let go of Dean, to show him just how wrong he was.

"Owwww, whatcha do that for?" Dean whined, more than asked, his ass firmly planted on the pavement.

"Do what Dean? Thought you said you could walk by yourself."

"Sure can, been doing it for over 25 years now. You just watch me." Dean slowly got on his hands and knees, his head lolling low like he was kissing the cement. "Sam, can you ask the world to stop spinning for a minute, it's making me ….."

Sam knew where that comment was going and heeded the warning. Gracefully moving sideways, he just missed the reappearance of the last few remaining items in Dean's stomach. After a few minutes of retching, Dean finally flopped over onto the cold concrete like a dead zombie. Sam was beginning to wonder if he'd even be able to get Dean back to the motel. 'Maybe I should just leave you here, it'd serve you right', he thought. He wasn't looking forward to nursing the stupid idiot all night.

"OK Dean, let's get you up and into bed."

"Make up your mind Sam, do you want me to get up, or get into bed. You can't have it both ways. You should think before you speak Sam. Hey, that's an oxy-moron, isn't it? Haa Haa, good one."

"Yeah, someone's a moron." The comment was lost on Dean, he had already passed out on the sidewalk.

"Great, now I have to carry your sorry ass!" Sam bent over, dragged Dean into a sitting position, and hauled him up over his shoulder. He thanked whatever gods there were that he only had to go across the street, the reek of liquor and Dean's dead weight almost too much for him. "I'm sooo gonna get you back for this."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Something was dragging Dean out of his alcohol-induced self coma. It was the smell of coffee. God, he loved the smell of coffee. Always loved the caffeine jolt it gave him. But it wasn't quite enough to bring him to full consciousness just yet. His brain wasn't ready to fully let go of sleep. It knew that when it did, it would be very, very sorry.

"Good morning sunshine! How are we feeling today?" Sam made no attempts whatsoever to mask his sarcasm. That brought Dean's brain to semi-alertness, quite painfully to boot.

"Dude, I feel like that poor little monkey from "Faces of Death". Can you please stop the hammers pounding me in the head. And did you see the cat that crapped in my mouth. Please tell me you caught it so I can kill it." Dean threw his arm over his face, trying to shield it from reality for just a few more minutes.

"No hammers, no cats. Just your old friends Jack and Bud. And you should know by now not to play with the two of them together. You know they just don't get along with each other. Forgive me if I have an extreme lack of sympathy for you. You sure do try to learn lessons the hard way, don't you. I did save you some coffee though, would you like some?"

"Yeah, that'd be great Sam. Ummm, Sammy, where are my clothes?" Dean was a little concerned that he was naked under his covers.

"I had to take them off you and wash them out in the bathtub when you threw up on yourself, again, after I had to carry you all the way back up here from across the street. You did pass out on the sidewalk, remember." Sam shot Dean a look that said he was far from happy with his brother regarding the whole scene. "And you weren't wearing any boxers when I stripped you either? Wanna tell me what happened to them?" Dumb question really, he saw Trish, and the way she scurried into the kitchen after Sam got there to get him, and Dean's desire to say good-bye.

"Thank-God! I thought maybe you took advantage of me in my incapacitated state. That's a relief. Don't know where the boxers went though. Wish I could answer that one. I think I'd like to remember that part."

"Yeah, your self induced, incapacitated state. I should have left you on the sidewalk, sleeping in your own vomit. Or left you there naked. That would serve you right."

"Oh, come on Sammy, that would probably have landed me in jail, and you know how that would have turned out, don't you?"

"Whatever. Just go take a shower so we can get moving. You smell like a school bus full of car-sick kindergartners. Here's your coffee, I'm going to get a newspaper. Please be up and ready to go when I get back. Daylights wasting." Sam walked out of the room, not waiting for Dean's reply.

Dean downed the coffee in two gulps, grateful for the hot liquid against his parched mouth and throat. Moving slower than slow, He made his way to the bathroom. Deciding that today was not the day he wanted to bleed to death, he opted against shaving and settled for the shower only. Stepping into the shower, he turned on the water, letting the ice-cold burst jolt some sense into him. It didn't last long though, and his mind quickly settled back into it's hangover stupor. He mindlessly washed his hair, then himself, and got out. He dressed quickly, he didn't want to hear Sam whine that he wasn't ready to go. He pulled his boots on and tied them just as Sam was unlocking the door.

"Oh good, your up. You ready to go? I'm ready for breakfast, how about you? We've wasted most of the morning, you know. And there's a storm coming, it's getting pretty dark already. The old guy downstairs is pretty pissed too, I guess you kinda threw up on the stairs too. I'd like to get to that farmhouse before it starts to rain. Don't want to be trudging around cornfields in the….."

"SAM, SHUT UP PLEASE!!! Jesus Christ, the Energizer Bunny's got nothing on you today. Either lay off the vitamins or take some f'n Ritalin, will ya!" Dean got up and walked past Sam out the door. Sam just shook his head and smiled. He loved knowing how to push Dean's buttons when he was like this. It was one of the rare occasions he could do it and Dean wouldn't retaliate.

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Breakfast was eaten in almost complete silence. Sam had a rather large cheese omelet, pancakes, hash browns, toast, bacon, and orange juice. Dean had toast. And coffee. And that's it. That's all he could handle, and the sight of Sam's breakfast was making him nauseous. Sam just inwardly laughed with every glance he stole at Dean, his face was a vision to behold. 'Dance to the music, eventually you gotta pay the piper' he thought. And Dean's paying, with interest.

"Dude, you almost done? I can't sit here anymore. I'm gonna go wait in the car. Meet me out there when you're done." Dean grabbed his jacket and walked out, leaving the cash on the table as he went.

When Dean got to the car, he just sank into the familiar leather seats. The feel of which was like a warm blanket and a cup of hot cocoa on a cold, rainy day. Pulling open the glove box, he started frantically searching for the Tylenol he knew was in there and so desperately needed. Tired of rummaging, he started throwing item after item on the floor, until he was finally rewarded with his prize. Popping the cap, he downed that last four in the bottle, and aimlessly tossed the empty into the back seat. With no water, he had to dry swallow them, leaving a chalky residue behind, making him want to gag. Now, he needed to gather the energy to return all that useless crap he had strewn onto the floor back to the glove box. Leaning forward, he started to reach for the junk, when Sam appeared in the passenger side window.

"Need some help there?" he asked as he opened the door and took his usual place at shotgun by Dean's side.

"Yeah, can you pick that crap up, reaching between YOUR legs is not my idea of a good time."

"Sure Dean. No problem." Sam just shook his head, huge grin still plastered on his face. He was really enjoying his brothers misery. He didn't even need to goad him today. Just watching Dean every time he winced or rubbed his eyes was satisfaction enough.

"Which way to Green Acres?" Dean asked Sam, rubbing his temples in slow, circular motion, then jamming the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"You want me to drive Dean? You don't look too good."

"No, I do not want you to drive Sam, and yes …."

"I'm fine," Sam said in unison with Dean, in a sense mocking him.

"Good, we're in agreement then. Let's go."

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The ride to the farmhouse took all of twenty minutes, back roads all the way. Sam took the time to refresh Dean's memory about the task at hand. Dean spent the ride pretty much ignoring everything Sam said, occasionally shaking his head to make it look like he was listening. He didn't have room in his head for Sam's talking and the monster truck rally putting on a show atop his brain.

As if Sam suddenly became a mind-reader, he asked Dean rather abruptly "Dean, have heard a word I've said?"

"Every word Sam. I heard every word."

"Yeah, you heard every word, but were you listening to them?" Sam wasn't stupid. He knew better.

"What's there to listen to? You told it all to me yesterday. Unless you forgot something, I think I got it all. This is simple recon anyway. You said the bitch is nocturnal. Last time I checked, that means she comes out at night, not at 11:30 in the morning."

"I know what I said, but you, of all people, should know to be prepared for anything. Hasn't past experience taught you that yet?"

"We're here," Dean announced, cutting Sam's tirade off before he could get on a roll. Dean turned onto the old dirt drive that led to an equally old house. He parked, got out, went to the trunk, and grabbed two flashlights and two .45s. "Better to be safe than sorry" he mumbled to himself. Handing one of each to Sam, he said, "Let's do this," and made his way up to the porch.

The house didn't look like all the other old, deserted houses they'd seen everywhere else, rotting away from years of abandonment and neglect. It was old, but it had been well maintained over the years. It looked like a family could be living in it right now. It's painted walls were relatively unblemished, the windows were all intact, the shutters all hanging in their proper places. There were even curtains still hanging in the windows on the ground floor. The steps up to the porch were strong and firm. They didn't even creak as both men started up them to the front door.

The front door was actually locked, Sam pulled out his lock picks and went to work. Within a few seconds, both brother were inside the house, closing the door behind them.

The inside was as unremarkable as the outside. Empty, save for a few small chairs and a table or two. This was definitely not the type of house the boys were used to. They were used to houses that the inhabitants ran out of, usually in fear for their lives, leaving everything they owned just to get the hell out. This was a house that simply looked like it had just been left behind.

"Sam, you wanna go up or down, upstairs or basement?" Dean asked, indicating in both directions.

"I'll take down. You go up."

"Up it is, meet you back here." And up the stairs Dean went, leaving Sam to find the basement on his own.

The basement stairs were exactly were Sam thought they would be. In the kitchen. Flashlight in hand, he headed down the stars. About halfway down, he stopped when something crunched under his feet. Training the flashlight down, he saw the remains of a beer bottle. Then he scanned the rest of the stairs below him, seeing many more, along with a few empty beer cans and various liquor bottles that had been discarded here and there and everywhere. Finishing his descent into the basement, it was obvious where the local teenagers came to have a good time. There were half-burned candles all over the place, camping lanterns here and there, some chairs, and a nasty looking mattress on the floor in the corner.

"Uhg, that's a real romantic place to take a date." Sam said, to himself of course. The whole basement smelled like stale beer and cigarettes. When Sam was pretty satisfied nothing 'supernatural' was going on in the basement, he made his way back upstairs. Maybe Dean was having better luck than he was.

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Dean dragged himself up the stairs that would take him to the upper floor of the house, wondering to himself why he was here. He just wanted to curl up and go back to bed. Between his hangover and the fact that the storm clouds were starting to roll in pretty fiercely now, conditions were ripe for a nice long nap. "Get it together Winchester, you haven't taken naps since you were four." Dean said, surprised that he actually said that out loud. Oh god, he was talking to himself. That couldn't be good.

The upper floor had three bedrooms and one bathroom. All of which were empty. No furniture, no nothing. Only a lot of dust and a lot of footprints of various size and shape in said dust. "How many of these footprints are yours you backwards bitch?" Dean said that out loud too. He sure was talking to himself a lot today.

That was when he heard a noise. No much of a noise really, kind of a light shuffling sound, coming from what he thought might be the attic. "Probably just raccoons or squirrels, or something. Guess I better check it out anyway." he said that out loud to himself too.

Making his way back to the master bedroom, he pulled down the stairs that led to the attic. Flipping on his flashlight, he made his way up the stairs, very slowly. He didn't want some animal jumping out at him, biting him and giving him rabies, and he definitely didn't want to fall off the stairs. When his upper body was up the stairs enough for him to survey the whole attic, he started swinging his flashlight around to take a good look. He heard another rustling from the corner behind him. Swinging his flashlight wide right, he stopped dead when the beam landed on a set of eyes. They were definitely not animal eyes either. They were deep brown, almost black in the poor lighting. They had a bewitching quality to them, and Dean couldn't help but gaze into them. They were the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. That was when he heard the voice in his head. Sam's voice, reminding him not to look her in the eye. Too late, already done. He was hooked. Guess he should have really been listening to Sam on the way here.

"Forget what you have seen until the moon is high tonight, then return to me. I will be waiting here or you." She spoke to him, knowing that someone else was near, someone dangerous. Then, she disappeared from Dean's line of sight.

Dean shook his head, trying to get the cobwebs out. He felt like he'd just fallen asleep on his feet. He almost jumped out of his skin when Sam called up to him from the bottom of the attic stairs.

"You find anything up there?"

"Nothing up here, what about you?"

"Whole lotta nothing' down there too. Basement seems to be a local party spot, but that's about it. Should we check out the barn?"

"Yeah, let's go check out the barn. Then I'm going back to the motel for a nap. This place so far is a bust. And a nap sounds soooo like a good idea."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Making their way out of the house, they headed down the dirt drive to the barn. That was when the thunder started to boom in the western sky.

"Some wicked shit is on the way here Dean, maybe we should wait for tomorrow."

"Sam, it's just rain. Stop being such a baby."

"You're the one that wants to take a nap, and you're calling me a baby!"

"Shut up, bitch."

"Jerk!"

"Get in the f'n barn, will ya, I don't wanna be here all day." Dean was waaaay past done for the day, he just wanted to sleep, he wanted to be prepared for tonight. He knew Sam was right, they should wait until tomorrow night since the storm was brewing, but something was nagging at his mind that he needed to come back tonight. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

Satisfied that the barn was as clean as the house, the brothers made their way back to the car. That was when the it started to pour. It was coming down so bad, they could barely see their hands in front of their faces. They both started running towards the car.

Sam reached the car first, longer legs giving him bigger strides. He was in the car before Dean even got close. When Dean finally reached the car, he hesitated, eyes drifting up to the attic window, like they were drawn there by some unseen force.

"Dean, Get In The Car!" Sam yelled at him, breaking Dean's thoughts. And with that, he got in the car.

"What the hell were you looking at?"

"Huh, wha, oh, nothing. Let's go. I need that nap now."

x

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The drive back to the motel seemed to take forever. Dean's head wasn't just splitting in half, it was splitting in quarters. He was having a hard time focusing and his stomach was in knots, somersaulting at every pothole he hit. He just wanted to get to the motel and sleep, forever.

The rain was coming down in sheets now, the howling winds blowing it sideways, making visibility near zero. The lightning lit up the dark skies like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

When the motel came into view, it was like a beacon of light to a lost sailor in the black seas to Dean. He parked the car and ran inside, not even waiting for Sam. Up the stairs, two at a time, he rushed to the door. He fumbled around in his pockets for what seemed like forever when it finally dawned on him. He never grabbed the room key.

"Looking for something?" Sam asked mockingly, jingling the keys just mere inches from Dean's irritated face, only to pull them away as Dean tried to grab them. "Ooh Dean, losing your cat-like reflexes there? Must be getting slow in your old age." Sam smirked at him.

"If you wanna see old age Sam, you're gonna open that door. I am NOT in the mood for this right now."

"Sure Dean. As soon as you admit to me that you are not ready for this today. Maybe we should hold off until tomorrow. I don't think it would hurt. Who the hell would be stupid enough to go out on a night like this anyway, besides us."

"OK Sam, you win. I feel like shit. I can barely stand up straight, my head is killing me, and the thought of food turns my stomach. It's probably the worst hangover I've ever had. But it's not some terminal disease that I'm gonna die from. We don't need to wait until tomorrow. What more perfect time to be out there than when nobody else will be out there to get in our way. Just let me sleep it off, then we'll eat, then we're gonna go hunt this bitch down. It's not like I haven't hunted with a hangover before."

"I know Dean, but you're not taking this hunt seriously by starting it on a bender. If you're not at the top of your game, your gonna get yourself or me hurt. We end hunts with hangovers, not start them."

"Please don't say 'benders' Sam. And I would never do anything to get you hurt. I said I'll be fine. Will you open the damn door now?"

"Fine. Go take your nap. I'm gonna see what else I can dug up." Sam unlocked the door, and Dean plowed past him, sprawling out on his bed. He didn't even bother to take his boots off.

"Wake me up in a few hours Sam. Should give us plenty of time before dark to eat and come up with a plan. I wanna finish this tonight."

"Whatever you say Dean. You need me to warm you up a baby bottle too, or are you content sucking your thumb?"

"Kiss my ass Sam. I wouldn't have gone out last night at all if you hadn't pissed me off anyway. Guess that makes this partially your fault." And that was the last thing Dean was saying on the subject. He just buried his head in his pillow. He was snoring in a matter of minutes.

"You just keep telling yourself that Dean. My fault my ass. Hope that nap improves your personality too, because you really are being a dick. And you're not at the top of your game, no matter what you say." He knew he was talking to himself, but he didn't care.

Sam flipped open the laptop. He figured he may as well see if he can dig up anymore information on their current prey. So far, there wasn't very much, only what they knew already. Seemed pretty straightforward though. It was still perplexing him that they came up empty at the house and in the barn. No evidence of anything sinister going on there at all. The house and barn had to be the key though. Both men died there, and the two missing men's cars were parked there. She had to be near that house somehow. There had to be a way to draw her out. He was having his doubts with this damn storm though. 'Nothing should be out in this storm. Please let it be over soon. I do not want to be out hunting in this tonight' he thought.

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Dean was woke after a much needed four hours of sleep by the sound of thunder. Window rattling thunder. It was only a little after five, but the skies were darker than evening on the dark side of the moon. The storm hadn't blown over like they hoped, but had intensified to dangerous proportions. And apparently, the power had gone out. There were no lights on, only the glow of Sam's laptop illuminating the room.

"Sam, are you here?"

"Yeah Dean, over here. You feel better?"

"Feel like a million bucks." And he meant it. He did feel a million times better. "When'd the power go out?" he asked as he dragged himself up into a sitting position.

"About three hours ago. Whole town is out."

"Well, that's just great. How the hell are we going to get anything to eat now if nobody has power? I'm starving, and I can't hunt on an empty stomach."

"Well, I found a bag of M&Ms in the car, and I've got a bottle of water. You could have that. Wouldn't be the first time that's been dinner for you anyway."

"Funny. All I've had all day was a lousy piece of toast."

"And whole fault is that?"

"Mr. Jack Daniels. I believe it was all his fault."

"Yeah, right. Well, you'll be happy to know that while you were napping, I. being the only person in his right mind, talked to the old guy downstairs and he told me that if we were planning to do anything, we'd better do it now. He said the power was gonna go out, it always does when it's like this. So, I headed down to that deli up the street and got us a couple sandwiches, just in case."

"Oh Sammy, you're my hero. I owe you big for this one. Hand it over before I eat this mattress."

"Dude, you don't know where that mattress has been. Just eat the sandwich, OK?" Grabbing the sandwich from the fridge, which was warmer than the room itself, Sam tossed it to his brother like a football. It was about the same size too.

"Roast beef and provolone, your favorite. And a bag of barbeque chips too."

"You really know how to pick 'em Sammy." Dean tore into the sandwich with a fury, biting off as much as he could possibly chew at one time. He looked like he hadn't eaten in years. H rolled his eyes back and moaned, "This is almost better than sex."

"Dude, TMI!" Sam just rolled his eyes. "So, I've been thinking."

"That's never a good thing."

"Would you shut up and listen. We know for sure that she only seems to take a victim when the guy is alone. The two that died got separated from their buddies, the other two that went missing were already alone. I think if we're together, she won't show herself. I think we need to split up."

"You know how I feel about hunting alone Sam. It's never a good idea. Usually ends up bad."

"I know Dean, but if we're together all night, we'll probably never see her and just be wasting our time. I think we're gonna have to split up. She has to be attached to that house or barn, there's nothing else out there."

"So, you think one of us takes the house, the other one the barn?"

"Exactly. We have to stake them both out. She could be using either one. We've got our cells in case we need 'em. I think it's the only way."

"I don't like it Sam, but I guess you're right. If it's the only, then it's the only way. I got dibs on the house, the barn's all yours, little bro. I want some kind of check-in, every twenty minutes or so, just in case. You behind me there?"

"Yep. Whenever you're ready then Sleeping Beauty, let's go find Princess Charming."

"Ready as I'll ever be," Dean answered, swallowing the last of his sandwich.

Something was bothering him, something at the back of his mind he couldn't quite pull out. He was almost looking forward to being alone in that house tonight, yet he wasn't sure why. He had a brief memory flash of dark eyes staring at him, but as soon as it came to his mind, it was gone. He did feel invigorated after the sleep he'd just had. It was only four hours, but it had been the most restful four hours he'd had in a long time.

"Let's get this party started then."

"Dude, is that the crap you listen to when I'm not paying attention? Oh Sammy, Pink is most definitely not your color." Dean chuckled as he grabbed his bag of the floor and headed for the door.

"Better than some of that mullet-headed garbage you listen to." His words fell on deaf ears though, Dean was already out the door. He smiled to himself though. He was thankful to be rid of Asshole Dean. It seemed like his tantrum had run it's course, and that was a good thing. Too many distractions can make for a long and dangerous night.

When Sam got to the lobby, he saw the look of concern on his brother's face. His game face. He came up behind him and mirrored the look as he peered out the window Dean was standing in front of.

The storm was unbelievingly gaining strength. The sky was now an unnatural shade of green. The clouds were hanging low in the sky and the humidity was stifling and oppressive.

"Dean, this is bad. This is tornado weather. I don't like it."

"Come on Sam, it'll be fine. Besides, that house has a basement. If things get hairy, we'll just head down there. How much safer are we here than there anyway? This old place probably doesn't have a basement. We'd be sitting ducks here."

"That's all easy for you to say Dean. The barn doesn't have a basement."

"Just keep your eyes peeled. If you see a funnel cloud headed our way, haul ass to the house. It's not that far with those gangly legs of yours anyway."

"Whatever. I still don't like it, if just feels wrong."

"When do hunts ever feel right Sam?"

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They arrived at the house a little after six. It may as well have been midnight, it was that dark. The threat of a tornado seemed to have passed, but the torrential rain, thunder, and lightning continued.

Dean got out of the car and hustled to the trunk. He stuffed two machetes, two shotguns, two lanterns, and two flashlights into his bag, then grabbed a box of Winchester style ammo. He slammed the trunk closed and hauled ass into the house, Sam right behind him. It was still unlocked, just the way they'd left it.

Entering the house, they brushed the rain from their hair and off their jackets. They were still soaked though. Dean dug into the bag, handing Sam his half of the weapons.

Dean spoke first. "Here's the plan. Every hour, we sweep the perimeter of each building, one at a time. I'll go first. I'll flash the light through the kitchen window twice when I go out, and twice when I'm back in. Then you do the same. Two flashes at the front when you go out, two when you're back. If anything's wrong, three flashes. Got it?"

"Two if by land, three if I'm in deep shit. I got it. Dean, be careful. I'm getting a bad feeling about this."

"Hey, it was your idea to come here, remember. Just keep your machete at the ready and your eyes open for the prize. Text me every twenty minutes too. Kind of a check-in."

"Got it, I'm off to see the Wizard." Sam ran out the kitchen door at the back of the house, hoofing it through the battering rain to the barn. Dean stood watching until his brother was safely inside, the shut the door.

He turned and make his way back into the living room, and set his watch for one hour. He then got out his lighter and lit his lantern so he could see his hands in front of his face. Shotgun and lantern in hand, he began to sweep the house. Nothing on this floor, he went to check out the basement. Down the stairs, he swept the room, it looked all clear also. Now for the upstairs.

As he began the trek up the stairs, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand at full attention. When he reached the top and glanced into the master bedroom, he actually thought he felt those hairs salute. Stepping all the way in, he felt a chill run down his spine when he looked up to the attic. "Shit Sam, I thought you were the one with spider sense," he said out loud to himself in attempt to calm his nerves.

Grabbing the rope, he noticed his palms were sweating. "I feel like a friggin kid on a first date, what the hell is wrong with me?" Another comment spoken out loud, only to himself. He pulled down the stairs, and made his way up them. When he was well enough in, he put the lantern down and pulled his flashlight out of his pocket to scan the attic. The lantern just didn't offer him enough light. Clicking the flashlight on, he swept left, then right, then behind him. He felt satisfied that nothing was up there. He felt slightly disappointed.

He made his way back down the steps, closed up shop, and headed back downstairs. Another forty minutes to wait.

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Sam shook the rain out of his hair like a wet dog after a bath. He lit his lantern, and started to scan the interior of the barn. There wasn't much to it really. It was a relatively small space, everything openly visible. There was an upper loft that Sam had a full view of from right where he stood. There were two stalls for animals, both of which were empty. Sam didn't think there had ever been animals in those stalls. Sweep complete, Sam grabbed an old wooden chair and planted it at the front of the barn, and started watching the house from the window next to the door. He didn't know why, but he was sure that whatever was going to happen tonight was going down in that house. So he sat, and waited.

Two texts and forever later, he saw the flicker of Dean's flashlight. He also watched as the light came out the door, cross the length of the house, and disappear around the corner. After a few long minutes, the light came back into view around the other side, and back into the house. Two flashes of the light and Sam knew Dean's sweep was complete. Sam's turn now.

He was happy the rain had almost stopped. Guess things were looking up. Yeah, right. He flashed his light two times, and headed out, turning left and circling around the barn, sweeping the entire area as he went. Making it all the way back around, he ended up with a big, fat, zero. Back in the barn, he flashed the light twice to let Dean know he was back and all was well.

The next two perimeter checks yielded the same results, nothing. 'God, this is getting boring' Dean thought. It was time for another check, and the rain had started up again with a vengeance. The first three were pretty dry, save for the mud. This one would not be as pleasant.

Giving Sam the signal, he ventured out for the fourth time tonight. He was soo ready to go get Sam and just call it quits, but it was only ten. Just barely night, technically. That was when he caught the sight of something out of the corner of his eye, off to the side of the house.

He headed off in the direction he thought he'd seen the glimpse go. It moved in pace with him, always seeming to be just a few steps ahead of him and out of his field of vision. It would turn the corner of the house, then Dean would. Around the next corner, Dean right behind, not quite able to catch up. When Dean came around to where he'd started from, he saw something enter the house. As he followed it inside, he finally saw it.

She was petite, only about five feet tall. Long, flowing black hair, it covered most of her body, except for the slight glimpse of a firm breast peeking through. Her skin was flawless, dark, yet giving the appearance of being bronzed by the sun. Her eyes were dark and mysterious. He was almost lost in them. Then she spoke to him.

"You've come back. I knew that you would. Please, come to me. I just want to be near you."

The memory of those eyes flooded back immediately and Dean's stomach started to lurch with anticipation. "Of course I'm here. I couldn't stay away. That was you I saw earlier today, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was me. And your finding me only proves we were meant to be together, forever." She started up the stairs, Dean right behind her, like some lost little dog that had just been reunited with it's master. He couldn't resist her, she was calling to him. He was so entranced, he never noticed her feet, or the way she walked. He could only look into her eyes.

"We must hurry, we don't have much time. Come, quickly." She hurried up the stairs, Dean keeping pace with her. As they entered the top floor, she led Dean to the master bedroom. That was when his phone rang. He ignored it.

She turned to him, her lips brushing up against his. "Do you want me? Would you do anything for me, if only for one thing in return?"

"Yes, I'd do anything."

"Then prove it to me. Show me you trust me. Jump from that window and trust that I will catch you. Leap from that window, and I will be waiting at the bottom for you. Then we can go away and be together, forever.

"Anything." Dean dropped his flashlight and turned to the window, ready to jump.

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Sam sat, waiting as patiently as he could for the signal, which still hadn't come. The distress signal didn't either. Sam saw the light go inside, then disappear, only to be seen again from the master bedroom. No indication of trouble was given though. Sam pulled out his cell and hit the speed dial for Dean's phone. Four rings, and voice mail kicked in.

"Shit, something's wrong." Sam grabbed his machete, shotgun, and flashlight, and ran from the barn. He sprinted the distance between barn and house in no time flat, the fear for his brother's safety fueling his frenzy.

The door was still open, rain pooled all over the floor inside the kitchen, making it very slippery. There were two sets of wet footprints in the dust just beyond the kitchen. One set obviously had to be Dean's, the other set barefoot. The prints were toe to toe, as if they'd been in some sick dance together. Ignoring the footprints, Sam headed upstairs, knowing full well that Dean had gone that way too.

He heard voices when he reached the top. Two voices. One his brother, the other female. Entering the master bedroom, he saw her, in all her glory. Sam thought she was hideous. Her long, black hair hung down from her head like straw, her skin a sickly grayish brown, like the color of death. She had long, sharp fingernails, and dirty, backwards feet. Guess those guys that filmed "The Grudge" should have looked around a little more, This bitch wouldn't have needed any makeup. They were both standing in front of the window, Dean facing it, her right behind him, whispering in his ear.

"Dean, what are you doing? Kill her! She's right behind you!"

"Sam, I'm sorry. I have to do it. She wants me to." And without another work, Dean lunged through the window, shattering the glass as his body went through it and out into the pouring rain.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"DEAN!" Sam screamed after his brother as he watched in horror. He couldn't believe he had just seen his brother nose-dive out a second story window, and into darkness. He ran to the window and looked out, trying to get a glimpse of Dean through the pouring rain. The rain was too heavy, and the night was too dark. He couldn't see anything.

"It's too late, he is mine. He was mine the moment I saw him this morning. I could see it in his eyes. There is nothing you can do about it." She sneered at Sam, growling almost like a rabid dog.

'Shit, Dean saw her this morning' Sam thought, but he couldn't figure out how, or when. They'd searched the whole house and come up empty. Then it hit him, Dean was the only one in the attic. He knew Dean had subconsciously been under her spell all day. Then he thought about what she had just made his brother do, and all he saw was red. The red of rage.

It was that rage that drove him to swing his machete with all his might, aiming for her throat. He didn't even think or hesitate. It was a quick, fluid motion, and the only thing she had time to do was strike a look of shocked disbelief on her face. A look that would remain on it forever. As her head lolled to the side and landed on the floor with a hollow thump, her body dropped to it's knees, slumping over in the opposite direction.

Sam didn't wait around for the show. He just dropped the machete and bolted out the door. Desperate need to find his brother propelling him, he raced down the stairs as fast as humanly possible. He felt like he was in some horrible nightmare, the kind where you're running, but going nowhere.

Reaching the front door, he threw it open with such force he splintered the wood at the hinges. Out into the pouring rain he ran, searching the ground for any sign of Dean. There was nothing, anywhere.

Sam was becoming frantic when it finally dawned on him. The master bedroom windows look out the back of the house. He was on the wrong side. He turned around and ran back into the house, figuring it quicker to cut through.

He was running as fast as his legs would carry him. He forgot about the pool of water in the kitchen, until his foot hit it, and he was ass over face on the floor. "Shit!" he yelled. Scrambling back to his feet, he was pretty sure that was gonna leave a bruise somewhere. Regaining his balance, he ran out into the night, still searching the ground for his brother.

He finally found him, about ten feet from the house, laying in the overgrown grass, his body deathly still. Sam reached him quickly, not liking for one bit what he saw. He knew this was bad. He knelt down next to his brother, instantly hearing the ragged breathing coming from his lips. "Thank God you're still alive. Hang on Dean, I'm gonna get help," Sam told him, hoping he could hear him.

Reaching into his pocket for his phone, he flipped it open, intent on calling 911. He didn't notice Dean open one eye and look at him, but he did just barely hear him whispering. "Did you get her Sam? Did you get that bitch that just made me play Geronimo?" He choked out the words, blood trickling from his lips.

"Yeah, I got her Dean. Don't worry. She won't be a problem anymore."

"Good. Help me up Sam, we need to salt and burn her. We can't leave this unfinished," Dean said, actually making an effort to sit up. Sam knew that wasn't going to happen.

"You're kidding, right? You are not getting up Dean. You're staying right there and I'm calling an ambulance. I don't think my medical expertise will ever scratch the surface on this one." Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. His eyes were telling him one think, his brother's lips another. Dean obviously didn't know how bad he really was.

"I'm 'k Sam, really. I just need some help sitting up. Help me up so we can finish this. I wanna get back to the mo….." Dean couldn't finish what he was trying to say, his body started jerking violently with horrible convulsions. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he had stopped breathing.

"Oh Shit, Dean. Come on man, breathe. Don't do this to me." Sam was trying to hold his brother down, but it was use. His body writhed on the ground like a worm on cement after a hard summer rain, desperately trying to get back underground. He knew he couldn't wait anymore. He flipped open the phone and punched the numbers.

"911, what's your emergency," the droning voice barked at him. The voice that was his only possible rescue from this nightmare.

"I need help, my brother fell from the second floor window of the old farmhouse on Rt. 173. He's in bad shape. He must have hit his head pretty hard. He's having some kind of seizure. He has blood coming from his mouth and I don't think he's breathing! Please, hurry!" Sam was becoming panicked as he helplessly watched his brother jerk and twitch on the ground.

"Sir, calm down. What's your name?" The operator asked, her voice becoming soft and compassionate.

"Sam," he answered, trying to calm himself.

"Ok Sam, I need you to check if your brother's breathing. Can you do that for me? If he isn't, you may need to begin rescue breathing for him.?"

As she asked the question, Dean's body relaxed, going still and lifeless. Sam heard him draw in a gagged breath, though, indication he was finally breathing again. "He's breathing now, please, just hurry!" Sam could hear the operator starting to say something, but he closed his phone, turning his attention back to Dean.

Dean's strained voice was the what he heard next. "Sam, listen to me." It was such a whisper, Sam barely heard him. "You have to hide that body. Don't let the cops find it. They'll wanna know what we were doing here, and we can't explain it. Go, do it now before they get here. Hurry up, I'm fine."

"But Dean…"

"NO BUTS SAM, JUST DO IT!" It took all the energy he had left, and that was the last thing Dean would say before he passed out.

"This so sucks out loud!" Sam shouted. Making sure Dean was still breathing, he ran into the house, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom, trying to mentally figure out what the hell to do with the body. He knew Dean was right, they couldn't let that body be found. Feeling he had no other options, he grabbed the head with one hand, and a leg in another, and dragged the body down the stairs and out to the Impala. Popping open the trunk, he laid out a black garbage bag over the floor and stuffed the body into it. Shoving her head into another bag, he tucked that away also. He slammed the trunk closed, locked up the car, and ran back to his brother's side.

He finally took in the full extend of Dean's injuries as he stood there staring at him. He had pieces of glass of varying size embedded in his face, chest, arms, and hands. All of which were oozing blood at a pretty steady rate. Mix that with the rain slamming his face, he was one big, bloody mess. His favorite leather was missing, allowing for one very large piece of glass to lodge itself in his left shoulder. He also had blood trickling from his mouth and out of his right ear, down his neck.

None of that compared to the right leg though. A blind man could have seen that it was broken. The bone tore a hole in the denim as it cut it's way through the skin, leaving little pieces of tissue behind in it's wake. It jutted out like a mountain peak, and the denim was soaked with blood. A lot of blood.

Sam just stared at his brother, his face contorted in obvious pain, even in unconsciousness. "Where the hell is that ambulance," he screamed, hoping to hasten someone's arrival. It felt like forever since he'd called for help.

Like the answer to a prayer, he heard the sirens off in the distance, getting closer with every passing second. Reluctantly leaving his brother's side, he ran to the end of the driveway, knowing full well they'd never find Dean in the dark. Not in this storm.

He waved down the driver, beckoning him as close to Dean's broken body as possible. Over the grass they drove, through the mud, until he stopped them a few feet from his brother's side. The two EMTs climbed out of the ambulance, both carrying various pieces of equipment. "What happened here buddy, can you tell me?"

"My brother fell from that window up there. He's messed up pretty bad, He had some kind of seizure before you got here, stopped breathing. Started breathing again on his own when it was over. He must have hit his head pretty hard. I think maybe some of his ribs are broken too, he was breathing pretty ragged before the seizure hit him. And the leg, guess that one's obvious."

"Jeez, you a med student or something, you got a lot of detail in there?" The medic was surprised. Usually, he was answered with nothing but hysterics.

"Just been through this too many times before," Sam said, letting out a deep sigh.

"Has he been out the whole time, or was he conscience?"

"He was alert before and after the seizure, then he just passed out."

"When he was alert, did he know who he was, or did he vomit?"

"Yeah, he knew who he was and who I was," And that we needed to hide the body of the piece of shit they'd just killed. Coherent enough to make that priority number one. "No vomiting."

"That's good. OK, let's see what we got here. BP ninety over fifty, pulse 120, pupils are responsive but unequal. Slight bruising under the eyes. Let's get him into the bus and outta the rain. The sooner we get him to the hospital the better. Harry, get a collar, backboard, and bring the cot. We need to move it before we drown." The medic told his partner.

Harry took off, quickly bringing back the necessary items to immobilize their patient and ready him for transport. "Phil, you get the collar on, I'll brace that leg."

"When you're ready, say the word." Phil replied.

When both men were finished, they started the task of getting the backboard in place. One at the shoulders, one at the hips, they turned Dean's limp body enough to slide to board under him, pulling the straps as tight as they could without cutting off circulation. They did not want him going anywhere, not that he could. Once they had Dean loaded on the board, they lifted him onto the waiting cot. The ground was so muddy now, they just collapsed it and carried it the few feet to the awaiting ambulance, loading it in with almost no effort.

"You riding with us, or you gonna follow?"

"I'm riding with you. I'm not leaving him, and I don't think I could drive right now anyway," Sam said in a shaky voice. He couldn't seem to hold his hands still either.

"Don't worry kid, we got some of the best docs in the state here. We're gonna have to go to the southern end of town though, the roads all west of here are flooded. That's what took so long to get here. Hop in, we're ready to roll."

"Thank-you." Sam climbed up into the ambulance, Phil behind him, and Harry into the drivers seat. Within seconds, they were off and running, siren screaming, going as fast as they could in the downpour. Sam was grateful just to be headed away from that god forsaken house.

"What's your name kid?" Phil asked, trying to occupy Sam's mind.

"I'm Sam, he's Dean. How far is it to the hospital?"

"Gotta go a little out of the way, but it'll be worth it. Mercy's got the best medical staff in the state, maybe the whole Midwest. Easy on the eyes too, if you know what I mean," Phil gave Sam a mischievous wink at that one, hoping to lighten the mood. Sam gave a slight smirk back, knowing exactly what he meant by that.

"Yeah, well, Dean hates hospitals, so whatever it takes to keep him there, I'm all for."

"Hey Harry, who's manning the ER tonight?"

"Who do you think, same one's manning it every night, The Iron Maiden." Harry answered.

"Lucky man, your brother. Best doctor they've got, and if I may so, I'm sure she'll keep him there for a while. He may not want to leave."

"Don't count on it," Sam huffed. She better be one hot doc, or he'll be outta there the first chance he gets.

Sam's thought was broken by the pounding he was suddenly taking to the knees. He was so lost in his thoughts that he never noticed Phil screaming at Harry to pull over. "He's seizing again, Harry, pull over!"

Even strapped down to the board, Dean had found a way to go into violent convulsions. He was jerking hard enough to break the strap over his chest, which was hitching up and down like someone was torturing him with a tazer. And his lips and face were turning blue. After a few agonizing minutes, he was deathly calm again, but one thing was very different this time. There was no desperate gasp for air, no ragged breathing, no nothing. This time, he didn't start breathing again.

"He's not breathing Harry, we gotta bag him," Phil called for his partner, who climbed in the back, just behind Dean's head. Grabbing the tube, he gently slid it down Dean's throat, attaching the bag and began pumping air into Dean's uncooperative lungs. Phil felt for a pulse, relief showing in his face when he found one, weak, but there. "I'll bag him, just drive!"

Harry didn't waste any time, and was back in his seat and on the road faster then Sam could comprehend what had just happened. When it finally hit him what he had just seen, Sam couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe what was happening. How had this night turned into such a disaster. He knew how though, but really didn't want to admit it to himself. Dean got careless, and when Dean gets careless, Dean gets hurt. He scrubbed his hands through his hair and over his face, hoping that it was all just a bad dream and he would wake up any minute. The longer he sat there feeling every bump the ambulance hit, the more real the whole situation became, taunting him that it wasn't a dream, it was very, very real

"Don't worry kid, they'll have him up and around in no time," Phil said Sam. 'If he lives' he thought, knowing the situation was even worse then it looked, and it looked like a train wreck already.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eternity wasn't as long as the ambulance ride in Sam's mind. He thought he'd rather burn in hell for all of it than experience that again. The sight of someone else doing Dean's breathing for him was almost too much for his brain to take. He'd only seen it once before, and once was enough.

The ambulance backed up to the waiting bay, as two nurses waited to open the doors and bring their patient inside. Phil followed along side, still pumping the bag, the only oxygen Dean's haggard body was getting. Sam was right behind them, fully intending on following them wherever they took Dean, even if it was straight to hell. He didn't want to let him out of his sight, or he just couldn't.

Sam heard a few of the words Phil spoke, like seizure, tracheal intubation, intraparenchymal hemorrhage, cyanotic, blah, blah blah. And when had he started that IV? He heard, but wasn't listening as Phil relayed the severity of the situation. His mind had pretty much shut everything out, and his body was now on auto-pilot. He didn't notice the petite nurse that stepped in front of his as they rolled Dean through the double doors to the medical bay, and he almost knocked her over.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm sorry, but you can't go in there. They need all the room they can get. Do you think you can answer a few questions for me, they will help us treat your friend better."

"My brother," Sam corrected her.

"OK, your brother. Can you tell me his name?"

"Dean, Dean Kilmister," 'Oh, Dean, you'd be so proud of me', Sam thought. Dean would appreciate that one.

"Ok, Mr. Kilmister, do you know your brother's blood type?"

"A , no he doesn't have any known allergies, and he's not on any medications. He doesn't have any diseases and he's not a drug addict. Anything else, or does that about cover it? Can I go see my brother now.?" Sam didn't really have patience for this. He just wanted to be with Dean.

"I'm sorry, but until the doctor comes to speak to you, you'll need to wait right here. Can I get you anything?"

"Yeah, a backstage pass to the greatest show on earth. My brother dying without me."

"Mr. Kilmister, please try not to think like that. We are going to do everything we can for him. And Dr. Carpenter is the best. If anyone can help him, she can."

"I hope your right."

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The trauma room was bustling with activity. Phil's pumping of the ambu-bag had been replaced by a portable ventilator, which was filling Dean's lungs more efficiently. His lips and face were no longer tinged blue, but were dark red, mostly from the dried blood. A nurse were plucking out pieces of glass from Dean's head and face while another was attaching leads to a heart monitor.

"Can someone cut these pants off so I can get a good look at this leg, and call radiology. Tell 'em were coming with a severe trauma patient and have a unit ready when we get there. I don't wannna be screwing around in there. Call upstairs and get an OR ready. Who's the ortho specialist on call?" Dr. Carpenter barked one order after another, knowing every second counted.

"Dr. Klein is on call, should we page him?"

"No, call Dr. Scott, I want him here ASAP. This is not gonna be an easy one. Tell him I need him here, and he owes me one, no, make that two. Tell him to get here yesterday! You get that heart monitor going yet?"

"On now," the nurse said, flipping the switch that brought the machine to life.

"Good, get that shirt off too," she told another nurse as she started to examine her patient.

The heart monitor started screaming at just that moment, warning them all that something was terribly wrong. "Shit, he's awake, he's trying to pull out the damn tube! Hold his hands down!"

One of the nurses tried to pull Dean's hands away from the tube, but he was fighting her with every ounce of strength he had left in him, which considering his current condition, was quite a bit. He partially awoke, and felt like he was suffocating. He had to pull the damn thing out, if it was the last thing he did. In his fight, he ripped the IV line out, sending blood shooting in every direction as his hands flailed at the tube that was currently choking him.

Dr. Carpenter wasted no time in handling the current situation. "DEAN, GET YOUR HANDS OFF THAT DAMN TUBE RIGHT NOW!' The authoritative tone pierced through the haze in Dean's brain like a bullet, immediately making his hands go limp at his sides. She hovered over his face as close as she could get and looked him dead in the eyes. He recognized that voice, and those eyes. "You keep your hands off that. It's the only thing supplying your body with oxygen at the moment." Then, in a much softer, more compassionate voice, she went on. "Just relax, and let it do the work for you for now. I don't want to have to go into the waiting room and tell your brother that you died because you wouldn't leave the breathing tube alone. Now please, let it and us help you. Do you think you can do that?"

She took Dean's hand in hers, and continued. "Squeeze my hand once for yes, twice for no, OK?

He squeezed once for yes.

"Are you in a lot of pain?"

Once again.

"OK, can you tell me where?"

One squeeze.

"Your head?"

One.

"Ribs." She gently pressed against his right ribs.

One

"Abdomen." Starting at twelve o'clock above his navel, she felt clockwise until she got to two o'clock.

One. A hard one.

"Legs?"

Two.

"Did you just squeeze my hand twice Dean. Does that mean no?"

One again. Oh shit. She went to place Dean's hand down, when he squeezed it one last time, this time, holding on for dear life. She just looked him in the eyes, wordlessly relaying her concern, and gently placed his hand onto his chest.

"Radiology and OR are ready Dr. Carpenter, and Dr. Scott is on his way." One of the nurses told her, seeing the look in her eyes at Dean's last response.

"Let's move it then, I want a complete set, head to toe, and make sure they take the vertebrae from T-1 to T-12, then bring them up to OR. Get him prepped while I go talk to his brother, and I'll be up to scrub."

"I can go talk to the brother if you want.." one of the nurses began to volunteer.

"I want to talk to him myself. I'll be up there before he is. Now go."

"Just relax Dean, we'll make this alright'" she whispered to him, then left the room.

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Sam was pacing the waiting room like wolf on the prowl. Every second pass he made across the room, he stopped to look through the windows to see what was going on. The curtains were closed, he couldn't see shit. After about the millionth pass by the window, he finally saw activity. She was still wearing her mask when she came through the doors, but would Sam know that red hair, those intense hazel eyes, and that determined swagger anywhere. She took off her mask and started to speak. Sam cut her off.

"Lou?" He asked, not for lack of knowledge, but lack of belief.

"Yeah Sam, it's me. Let's talk."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Before she could say another word, Sam enveloped her in a strong embrace. He never felt more alone then he did right now, and was more desperate for familiar human contact then a junkie desperate for the next fix. Standing nearly a foot shorter, she returned the affection, knowing how much Sam needed it right now. But she also knew she didn't have a lot of time.

"Sam, you're crushing me, can you ease up a little? I can't breathe, and people are staring."

"Oh, sorry. You have no idea how happy I am to see you," Sam told her, finally letting her out of the bear hug.

"I think I got a pretty good idea now," she retorted. "Listen Sam, I don't have much time to talk."

"How's Dean? Is he alright? Can I see him?" Sam asked all these questions in one breath, with a little more than a slight urgency in his tone.

"Whoa, slow down. One question at a time. No, he's not alright. I don't even know where to begin. He's in radiology right now, but I don't need to see the x-rays to know he's probably got a skull fracture, broken ribs, and that leg, well, that speaks for itself. I think his spleen has ruptured, and he doesn't have any feeling in his leg. That means one of two things, neither of which I like very much. They're taking him directly to OR, on my orders, so I can try to fix this mess. I've got an ortho specialist on the way to try and piece those jigsaw puzzle leg bones back together. There's a lot of muscle and nerve damage, and the longer that leg wound stays open, the higher the risk of infection. If that happens, that leg will be toast. I wouldn't normally be this blunt, but since you're no virgin to this, and you did go to the John Winchester School of Medicine, I'll cut the crap and give it to you straight. I'll know more when I open him up and take a good look inside. You wanna tell me what the hell happened? How did this get so fucked up. Did I not give you enough specifics?"

"You gave us all the specifics. Dean was, uh, not feeling well and kinda didn't follow your advice about not looking into her eyes.. It obviously went all downhill from there."

"Yeah, well, when did Dean ever listen to my advice?"

"Once, when he was eleven, I think"

"That wasn't advice Sam, I told him that if he didn't stop trying to watch me in the shower, I was gonna kick his ass until his nose bled."

"And he took that advice, didn't he?"

"If you say so. I think he was more worried about being beat up by a girl. I was bigger then him then, you know."

"Not much bigger, and I think he weighed more than you. What are you, hundred pounds soaking wet?" Sam chuckled.

"Ha Ha. Very funny. I can still kick his ass, and yours. Brief me, quickly, Sam on what happened, I need to know. And what do you mean, he wasn't feeling well. Are you saying what I think you're saying? Was he hanging out with Jack Daniels or Jim Beam?"

Sam relayed the events of the last two days as quickly as he could, hoping he didn't leave any important details out. When he finished, she just shook her head.

"Good 'ole Jack. Figures. Dean's gonna be pissed you put that body in the trunk of his precious car. Listen to me Sam. I know you feel the need to attach your ass permanently to one of those chairs over there until we're done, but you need to finish what was started here. You need to salt and burn that body. You can't leave any loose ends. Even dead, we don't know if she still has any kind of hold on Dean. I don't want to take that risk while I'm performing major surgery on him, and I don't think you want to either. You know as well as I do that nothing is really dead until you've salted and burned it."

"But I can't just leave, not knowing what's going on."

"Yes you can Sam, because I'm not going to let anything happen to Dean. We are going to be in there for hours, and I do mean hours. The sun will probably come up well before we're done, and it isn't gonna do you any good to sit around here obsessing about what's going on in there, especially when Dean's blessed baby is sitting out there all alone with some major prison time rotting in the trunk. I think you've got enough problems with the law anyway, who needs more? If anything happens, I will call you immediately. I promise."

"How am I supposed to get back to the car? I rode here in the ambulance. I sure as hell can't walk it."

"Stop whining Sa, I'll take care of that. You wait right here." She walked back through the double doors to only God knew where, returning a few minutes later with a young nurse in tow.

"Sam, this is Iris. Iris, this is Sam. Iris has agreed to drive you back to the car on her way home, since her shift is over. She goes right past there, so it isn't out of her way. And she said she'd be more than happy to do it. She's ready to go if you are, Sam."

"I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be. You promise you'll call if anything happens?"

"In a heartbeat. Don't worry Sam, just take care of business. Iris, do you mind bringing your car up the door, I have a few more things I need to talk to Sam about?"

"Sure, no problem. I'll be right outside those doors."

"Thanks Iris, I owe you one."

"I'll remember that doc," she insisted as she walked away.

"Sam, here are my keys. When you pick up the car, go and check out of whatever flea-bag motel you two were staying in, and go to my house. Here's the address. The code to the garage door is 3572. Pull in the garage, and take that body to the back yard. I have a large fire pit there. There's plenty of salt in the kitchen in the cabinet above the sink, and gas for the lawnmower is in the garage. Salt and burn that bitch in the fire pit. Then I want you to take a shower and get into some dry clothes. Your soaked and filthy. I don't need you getting sick too. Have something to eat, the refrigerator is all yours. Put your gear in one of the upstairs bedrooms, doesn't matter which one. You'll be staying with me. Try to get a couple hours rest, and I'll see you back here later. If we're finished before your back, I'll call you, but I highly doubt it."

Sam's head was swimming. He was almost grateful that someone else was taking charge and giving orders, he didn't think he could right now. "You sure are bossy, you know that?" He joked, feeling a slight sense of ease for the first time tonight.

"I know. I wonder who I learned it from."

"I got a pretty good idea," Sam finished, and left to compete his mission.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam saw Iris sitting in her car, right in front of the doors, exactly where she said she'd be. He groaned inwardly when he saw she drove a bright purple Dodge Neon. It wasn't saying "Hi" to him, it was saying "Yeah right buddy, you are so not gonna enjoy this ride." He wasn't sure he'd even be able to get his whole body in, let alone ride in it. "Oh well, I've been in worse, I think," he sighed to himself as he pulled on the door handle.

Mercifully, Iris had already put the seat back as far as it could possibly go, which still wasn't far enough. Sam climbed in, knees pressed hard against the dashboard, and head pushing it's way out the top. He felt like Fred Flintstone's Dino trying to catch a movie.

Iris pulled out of the hospital parking lot, and headed in the direction of the old farmhouse. Sam wasn't really looking forward to being back there again. He'd be happy if he never saw it again. He couldn't get the vision of Dean lying there broken and bleeding in the grass from his mind.

Iris broke the silence. "So, you guys were checking out the old farmhouse, huh?" Sam just looked over at her and shook his head in the affirmative. She was a young girl, probably a little younger than Sam, but not much. Her shoulder length, brown hair pulled back into a plain pony and sad brown eyes screamed wallflower to him. She wore no make-up, no jewelry, and her plain white scrubs made her look just, well, plain. 'Always a bridesmaid, never a bride' was Sam's first impression.

"That was your brother we were just working on?"

"Yeah, it was. Were you in there with him?"

"Yes, I was. He's a very strong willed person, isn't he?"

"You have no idea. What makes you say that, anyway?"

"He woke up and tried to pull the tube out of his throat. He obviously didn't like it much. Dr. Carpenter yelled at him though, that seemed to do the trick. He just dropped his hands like they were hot rocks. She's just got one of those voices, you know? She can be an authoritative bitch sometimes. He was semi-conscience when they took him to radiology. That was the last I saw of him."

"He tried to pull out the breathing tube? What an ass. He's such a pig-headed jerk."

"You really don't mean that, do you Sam. You know, people just say things like that as a defense mechanism to hide the pain, fear, and uncertainty they are really feeling in situations like these."

Sam thought about that for a moment. What was she, some friggin' wanna be shrink? "No, I don't mean it. Honestly, Dean is the most stoic, self-sacrificing, courageous person I have ever known. He is always putting others in front of himself. He puts himself in harms way to save other people from pain and misery, and I know he would die for total strangers if it meant they could live. He's always trying to protect me, he never thinks about himself, and sometimes that scares me. I'm afraid of what would happen if I lost him, he's all I have left." Sam was spilling his guts to a perfect stranger, and didn't know why. He didn't care either. She opened the floodgates, and it was all just flowing out, and he was helpless to stop it.

"He sounds like a wonderful man Sam. I could see that back there. He was in so much pain, but he still held his shit together."

"How do you know he was in pain?"

"Dr. Carpenter asked him. He couldn't speak, but she did the old "squeeze my hand yes and no" bit. And I think she could see it in his eyes. She could read him like a book, and he was reading her too. I almost thought I could tell what they were thinking. He has very expressive eyes. He seemed pretty coherent though, and I think that's a good sign. You're very lucky to have each other Sam. Some people never have that kind connection with anyone, ever."

"I think I'm luckier then Dean is." Sam knew that was undeniably true. He was lucky to have Dean. And God forbid he lose him now.

"I hope I get to meet his when this is all over, he sounds like a extraordinary person."

"Maybe you will," Sam answered. He wasn't sure that would be such a good idea. Dean wasn't the sharing and caring type when it came to women, more of the Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am type if guy. Don't get close, don't let anyone in.

"So, how long have you known Dr. Carpenter? You're obviously not strangers."

"We go way back. I've know her for as long as I can remember."

"Well, don't worry. She'll take good care of your brother."

"I know she will."

Sam was more than thrilled when he saw the Impala in front of him. He was starting to get a little creeped out by this conversation. He was also grateful that there were no cops in sight. Either they hadn't come yet, or they just didn't care. Hopefully, they just didn't care. Then there would be no explanations necessary,

"That's your car?" Iris asked, surprise in her voice.

"That's Dean's car. It's his baby. Treats that car better then he treats himself."

" I can see that. He's wrecked, the car's mint, oh, sorry. I didn't mean to say that out loud. Well, it was nice talking to you Sam. I'll probably see you around. I'm sorry to say, I think your brother will be staying with us for a little while."

"Thank-you Iris. Thank-you for everything."

"It was my pleasure Sam, any time."

Sam was more than relieved to be free of the little purple deathtrap and stretched out in the lap of luxury of Dean's metal beast. The familiar feel and smell a small comfort. He waited until Iris was well out of visual range, and left the comfort of the car to check on the contents of the trunk. Thankfully, they were just as he had left them.

Returning to the driver's seat, Sam cranked the engine to life and pulled away from the god-forsaken house he'd wished he'd never laid eyes on. He headed in the direction of the motel, intent on getting their stuff quickly and getting the hell out of there.

The drive to the motel was long and silent. No obnoxious banter. No snarky comments. No overplayed radio. No nothing. Just Sam, and his thoughts. And Sam alone with his thoughts was not a thing good for Sam. His mind drifted back to when Dean and he were kids. Dean always protected him from the nasty things that went bump in the night. Sure, their dad had taught them to hunt, but Dean was the one that watched over Sam while he ate, drank, slept, and lived. He began to wonder if Dean ever really had a life of his own, or was his life just an extension of Sam's.

He quickly entered the motel, hoping the lobby would be empty. It was nearly one in the morning. Who could possibly be around anyway? Thankfully, the lobby was dark and deserted, not a soul in sight.

Sam crept as quietly as he could, like a teenager sneaking back in after a late night rendezvous. Entering the room, he was grateful that the power had been restored. There was no way he was cleaning out that room in the dark.

He rounded up their stuff quickly, booted up the laptop to Mapquest Lou's place, and scribbled a note to leave at the front desk. With everything in check, he shut down the computer and exited the room. Stopping at the desk to leave the note and keys, he left.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The directions to Lou's house were easy enough to follow, until Sam was out of town. The rural roads were mostly unmarked, with houses were few and far between. He thought for sure he'd missed his turnoff, he'd been driving so long.

The yellow sigh appeared in front of Sam so fast, he had to jam on the brakes not to miss the road he needed to take, sending dirt and gravel in every direction as the Impala fishtailed all over the road. Quickly regaining control, he turned onto yet another desolate stretch of road, in search of some indication there was a house somewhere out here.

It was at least a mile, maybe more, before Sam saw a mailbox. Slowing to a crawl, he read the numbers 329 on it. This was it, it had to be the place, the mailbox the only indication a house even existed. He turned and made his way down the long, winding driveway.

A look of surprise struck Sam's face when he saw the house. It wasn't an ancient relic like the houses that usually graced the landscape of the rural Midwest, but a rather large, newly constructed, two story beauty.

Sam pulled all the way up to the garage, locating the panel on the side of the door. Punching in the code Lou had given him, he was relieved when the door started rolling up it's track. He knew for sure now he was in the right place.

Sam got back in the car, turned it around, and backed it into the large, empty space, careful not to hit anything. Dean would kill him if he scratched his car, and Sam didn't want to give Dean anymore wounds than he already had. The car was a part of Dean after all.

He hit the button that would lower the garage door, and dug the house keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the door, and entered the house. He felt weird being in this house alone, like he was some kind of violator coming to desecrate it.

He found himself in what appeared to be a large laundry room/pantry combination. That room led to a large kitchen. Rummaging through the cabinet above the stove as he was instructed, he found exactly what he was looking for right were he was told it would be.

The kitchen had a large patio window that led out to an elevated deck. Down the stairs of the deck, Sam found the fire pit that would double as a crematorium tonight.

He went back to the garage, locating the full can of gas. He fully intended on using every last drop. He popped open the Impala's trunk, cringing at the smell emanating from inside. "Oh shit, I hope that's not permanent," Sam said to himself, his voice breaking the oppressive silence. It made him feel better to talk to himself, made him feel less alone.

Grabbing a roll of duct tape he'd found, he taped the black bag under the corpse closed and dragged it from the trunk, not caring how or where it landed. He grabbed the bag with the head, picked up the gas can in the same hand, tucked the salt under his arm, and took the body by the feet, dragging it through the kitchen and out the door.

Sam felt a sick satisfaction as he dragged the body down the stairs, hearing a distinct crunch with each step he descended. Finally down all eight stairs and on the ground, he continued on towards the pit.

The pit was about a foot deep, dug down to make way for some decent bonfires, or salt and burns. This was Lou's house after all, salt and burns were more likely. He dragged the body just up to the edge, but didn't shove in quite yet. Taking the head out of the bag by it's hair, he hurled it into the pit, enjoying the sickening hollow thump he heard when it hit bottom.

He then bent over to unwrap the body, once again taking in the smell of death. Suddenly, an overwhelming anger overtook him, and he was instantly transformed into a frenzied mad man. He just started kicking whatever life may have been left in the bitch out. Each kick harder than the last, Sam finally fell breathlessly to the ground when he was completely exhausted and could kick no more. He took a few moments to compose himself, got up off the ground, and with one last forceful kick, landed the destroyed mess of bone and flesh into the pit.

Dumping in the whole box of salt and the entire can of gas, he struck a match and tossed it in, igniting the pyre. He fell to the ground and just watched her burn.

"Go to hell, right where you belong bitch. That's what you get for fucking with a Winchester." Sam wasn't moving from that spot until the last flame burned out.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The flames had been mesmerizing, and the next thing Sam knew, it was daylight. The storms had long since passed, and the sun was beating down hard on his face. The birds were singing a sweet song of joy, as their delicacies of the morning were abundant on the rain soaked ground.

"Shit! What time is it?" Sam couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep. How stupid could he be. Checking his watch, he groaned to see it was almost 7 a.m. He wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, or even how long he'd been out. He was sure that he was sore, stiff, wet, and filthy.

He needed a shower, and needed to get back to the hospital. He pulled his phone from his pocket, not knowing whether to be relieved or worried that he had no missed calls. He stuffed it back into his pocket, and started to drag himself up off the ground. With caked mud in his hair and all over his clothes, he knew he'd have to take a shower before going anywhere.

Slowly wandering back into the house, he grabbed his bag from the Impala, and tried to find his way upstairs. Through the kitchen, he passed what must have been a family room. There was a huge plasma TV mounted on the wall above an equally impressive fireplace in the corner. The other walls all sported large, cushy looking couches or chairs.

Beyond that, he found a small bathroom on his right, and a dining room on his left. The dining room having a formal table and chairs, it was set and waiting for it's guests. Sam kept walking towards the front of the house, passing a living room, and finally a foyer that held the stairs that would take him to the second floor.

Turning to face the stairs and start up, Sam hadn't realized he'd been tracking mud through the house from his feet. "Son of a bitch, what else can go wrong? Hasn't karma had had enough with us for a one day?" He kicked off is shoes, and ascended the stairs, head down and shoulders slumped.

The second floor had three bedrooms, a loft, and two full bathrooms, one of which was in the master bedroom. The master bedroom and bath comprised half of the upstairs. The other two rooms were a nice size as well, Sam choosing the larger of the two as it contained two beds. Dean would need one soon, too, he hoped. The room was almost as big as most of the motel rooms they'd stayed in.

He dropped his bag on one of the beds, digging through it for clean boxers, and headed to the bathroom. He undressed, kicking his filthy clothes into the corner. Turning on the water, he stepped inside, not really caring about the temperature. He just stood there and let it run down his tired, aching body, taking the mud and grime along with it. He finally soaped and shampooed, turning the water off when it ran clear down the drain.

He dried and dressed quickly, checking his phone once again. Still no calls. He knew he needed to eat, and decided to hit the kitchen before heading back.

He found a dear old friend in the pantry, taking it into the kitchen with him. He rummaged through every cabinet, finally finding the bowls and flatware. Selecting the largest bowl he could find, he filled it to the rim, poured in the milk he'd pulled from the fridge, and started chowing down on the biggest bowl of Lucky Charms he'd probably ever had.

He ate fast, gently tossed the bowl in the sink, put the milk and cereal back where he'd found them, and left the house, making sure to lock it behind him. He'd clean up that mud in the carpet later. He had to get to the hospital. It was already 7:45 a.m.

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It was just after eight o'clock when Sam arrived back at the hospital. The roads were all finally clear, and he lead footed it all the way. He parked and entered through the ER door, trying to find someone that could tell him where he needed to go. He didn't have to look far. He was immediately approached by a somewhat familiar face. She smiled wide as she greeted him.

"Hey Sam, you're back," Iris stating the obvious. "You need me to show you upstairs to the surgery waiting room? That's where they'll be looking for you."

"Thanks Iris. I'd appreciate that. Has there been any word yet? Can you tell me anything?"

"Sorry Sam. I haven't heard a word. I just got here myself. Come on, let's see if we can find anything out," she took his hand and led him to an elevator.

The elevator ride was slow and nerve-wracking. Every inch was one step closer to something Sam was sure he wasn't ready to deal with yet. It was taking forever to get to their floor, and Sam was starting to feel claustrophobic. He felt like he was suffocating. Mercifully, the doors opened wide, and Sam wasted no time getting out.

"Are you OK Sam? You look a little pale. Do you need to sit down? Iris expressed genuine concern for Sam's well-being.

"No, I'm fine, really. I just need to catch my breath. My nerves are just about on overload. Give me a minute to pull myself together."

"Sure thing. Let's just go down here and relax. I think you'll be much more comfortable. The waiting area is just down this hall." She led him down a very long, very empty corridor, only passing a few staff members here and there.

Past a small reception desk was the waiting area. Sam was impressed to see someone had actually made an effort to make the waiting room warm and inviting. Instead of the hard plastic of the ER, the room was furnished with deep beige, fluffy looking couches. There were numerous plants and a few vases full of fresh flowers. The walls were a pale yellow, the floor covered in a light beige carpet. Sam figured the couches were probably comfortable enough to sleep in, considering there were people that spent hours on end here waiting on word about their loved ones.

"Do you want me to wait with you for a while? I don't need to be downstairs for another hour or so."

"No, thank-you though Iris, really. I think I'd just like to be alone right now."

"I totally understand. If you need anything, just pick up that phone over there in the corner. It'll connect you with the desk we passed coming down the hall."

"Thank-you again, for everything."

"You're very welcome. I'll see you later Sam." She turned on her heels, giving Sam one more quick glance, and left him alone, as he'd asked.

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Ninety minutes and a lifetime later, Sam finally saw someone coming down the corridor. His heart leapt in his chest. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the news, but knew he desperately needed to.

Her stride was slow and weary, her face long and exhausted. Sam didn't like what he what he saw on it, didn't know what to make of it. He knew it couldn't be good though. He started towards her down the hall, intent on meeting her halfway.

"How is he Lou? How is Dean?"

"Can we go sit down Sam?" She just brushed past him, knowing he'd be right behind her. She found a comfortable spot on one of the couches in the corner of the empty waiting room, sat down, and rubbed her eyes so hard Sam thought she was going to pop them out the back of her head.

"Are you gonna tell me, or do I have to play twenty questions." There was obvious frustration in Sam's tone. It had already been a long night, and it was obviously going to be a long day too.

"I'm just trying to gather my thoughts in my own head Sam. If they're jumbled in there, they're coming out jumbled too. I'm not even sure where to start."

"How about at the top, and work your way down."

"Fair enough. Here it goes. Dean's got a depressed skull fracture behind his right ear. It doesn't appear deep enough to be putting pressure on the brain, but it is about the size of a quarter. He also has a cerebral contusion, with some minor bleeding. It looks like the bleeding has stopped on it's own, and I hope it has, because I don't really think he could survive anymore surgery right now. I've inserted an intracranial pressure monitor into his brain. It will tell me if there is any additional swelling other than what he already has. I'm keeping him in a drug induced coma for at least the next forty-eight hours, or until the swelling that has occurred has gone down. When it does, I'll start to bring him around and remove the monitor."

"You said he has bleeding and swelling in his brain. Will he have any permanent brain damage?" Sam was starting to feel sick.

"If everything stays status quo, and there is no additional swelling, I don't think there'll be any permanent damage. I am a little concerned by those seizures though. He had one at the scene, one in the ambulance, and another while we were prepping him. I think when the swelling goes down though, those will stop. I'm concerned that if he has another one though, it may start the bleeding up again"

"What else. I know there's more." Sam wondered how much worse this was going to get.

"Three of his right ribs were broken, one almost looks crushed. It pierced the lung and collapsed it. I'm leaving him on that respirator for the next forty-eight hours as well. We'll remove it before we start bringing him around. I don't want a repeat of the trauma room, and I don't want to have to restrain him either."

"Yeah, I heard what happened with that."

"I figured you had. I had a feeling Iris would tell you," she said that with a slight note of displeasure.

"His spleen is gone, it ruptured and had to come out. He also has a small laceration to his liver and bruising in the kidneys." She took a deep breath before continuing. "This is the part you aren't going to like Sam."

"I haven't liked any of it so far, why start now?"

"Yeah, well, it gets worse from here. He must have hit the ground pretty hard, because the T-11 and T-12 vertebrae were fractured. There wasn't any spinal cord damage, but there is a lot of swelling that's putting pressure on the spine. Right now, he doesn't have feeling in his hips or legs. I don't expect it to be permanent, but I just don't know for sure. The only positive to that is that he won't have any pain in that leg."

"That's a positive?"

"Trying to look on the bright side Sam. It actually is a positive. Dr. Scott placed two rods and quite a few pins and screws. The muscle damage was pretty extensive, but there doesn't appear to be much nerve damage. With the nerves intact, he's going to be in a lot of pain for quite some time. It took a long time to close it up too. He's on a heavy does of IV antibiotics, and will be until we're satisfied that the threat of any infection has passed. If he develops a fever, or his leg starts to get mottled in color, we're in serious trouble, and he could lose it. And the antibiotics are probably going to make him feel sick."

"Is there anything else? I don't think I can comprehend much more." Sam's head was swimming, most of what he'd just heard was still trying to find a place to seep in.

"Other then the numerous stitches in his face, arms, and chest, I thing that about covers it. I do need to ask you one question though Sam, if you don't mind?"

"Yeah, anything."

"Who shot Dean? There is a relatively fresh bullet wound in his left arm. You wanna tell me where that came from, or do I have to play twenty questions myself?"

Sam looked at her with a look of shocked guilt spread across his face. "Technically, I did, but it was an accident. There was this demon, and…."

"Say no more, I don't think I want to know the rest."

"When can I see him? I need to see him Lou, please."

"As soon as they move him from recovery to the ICU, we'll go see him. I need to explain a few things to you Sam, before you see him though. I need you to know he's not a pretty sight, and I want you to be prepared. He's in a halo collar to prevent his head from moving. There are four metal prongs in his head that hold it in place. He's immobilized from the waist down by a back brace, and his leg is in a soft cast, so that it is easily removable to change bandages. Between that, the monitors, and the respirator, your nerves are going to be really on edge. He looks like he's been skipping through a war zone, and got hit by every shell along the way."

"I can handle it, can we just go see him?"

"As soon as they page me, we'll head up. Listen Sam, I am not going to let you sleep in the crappy chair in that room, knowing that Dean is not going to be coherent for at least the next two days, probably more. You won't do him or yourself any good. You'll only succeed in making yourself tired, uncomfortable, and miserable. When I start bringing him around, you're more than welcome to hang out 24/7, but until then, you will leave when I do. I can ban you from the ICU altogether, please don't make me do that. It would be for your own good, of course. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal. But when he's off those meds, I WILL be there when he wakes up. Are we clear on that? I won't have him waking up alone."

"Fine by me." Lou felt the soft hum of her pager in her pocket. "They're ready. Let's go."

"It's about time?"

"Hey, you can't rush perfection Sam. You want it done right, don't you? Come on. Follow me." She got up and headed to the elevators, Sam close behind.

The room had so much equipment and so many machines and noises, Sam thought he'd walked straight into a NASA control room. He felt relief wash over him at the sound of the heart monitor though. The sound of Dean's heart beating. The sound that told Sam he was alive.

Lou was right, he was more than overwhelmed at the sight before him. He wasn't even sure he was in the right room, the person in the bed looked nothing like the Dean he knew. He looked like a black, blue, and purple quilt, stitched together by some arthritic, blind, ninety year old woman. There were sutures everywhere on his face and chest. His chest laid bare, electrodes stuck in every place the stitches weren't. His eyes were sunken in, and the pasty white of his complexion made the black and blue around his eyes stand out like a cat in a room of canaries.

The first thought Sam had while looking at the head brace was that he wasn't watching anymore "Hellraiser" movies. The four prongs dug into Dean's skin like some medieval torture device. Thankfully, he was covered from the chest down by a sheet. He really didn't need to see the rest. He was pretty sure he'd seen enough, and he didn't like what he'd seen already.

He gently placed his had atop of Dean's, letting one lone tear streak down before wiping it away with the other. He just needed the physical contact. He cringed at the feel of Dean's hand. "Lou, Why's he so cold? His hand is like ice. That can't be good, can it?"

"His circulation isn't back to normal yet. We had to give him quite a bit of blood. As soon as it regulates, his extremities will warm up again. Try not to worry too much Sam, the worst is over. Now we just sit back and wait."

Sam didn't say anything, he just stared at his brother as he listened to the steady rhythm of the respirator pumping oxygen into Dean's battered lungs. He couldn't believe that just twenty-four hours ago he'd been giving him hell, and enjoying it.

"Sam, I've got to finish some rounds and some paperwork. When I'm done, you and I are leaving. It's not a request, it's an order. I'm exhausted, and so are you. He'll be in good hands, and we'll be back tonight. I promise I'll let you sit here all night if you want, but in the morning, we go home." She didn't even wait for a response, she just walked out the door, leaving no room for argument.

Sam pulled up a chair as close to the bed as he could get, making sure he was turned so that he faced Dean. Taking Dean's hand in his once again, he spoke to him, hoping that somewhere in there, Dean could hear him.

"Dude, you really did a number on yourself this time. If you wanted some time off, you could have just said so. Did you really need to go to this extreme? I did the salt and burn, so if you're worried about that, don't be. And the car and our gear is all safe. You just focus on getting better, let me worry about the rest right now."

Sam needed to keep talking. He needed to get everything off his chest, even if Dean couldn't hear him. "So, it was good to see Lou again. She saved your life, you know. She can't be all that bad, can she. I wish you'd tell me what you have against her. Maybe someday you will. Yeah, right. You never tell me anything, who am I kidding? I guess that's just part of your charm, isn't it?"

"Sam, can I get you anything?" That familiar voice again, Sam turned around to see Iris enter the room. She approached him and her patient, gently laying a hand on Dean's leg. "I told you he'd pull through. He's a fighter, isn't he?"

"That he is. He's one though bastard."

"If you need anything, just hit that call button, and I'll come running OK? I'll be stationed up here for the next couple weeks. I'll take good care of Dean."

"Yeah, thanks."

When Sam was sure they were alone, he looked at Dean and just shook his head. "Dude, I think Nurse Iris has a thing for you. Bet she's looking forward to giving you a sponge bath or two. Even in a coma, the chicks can't stay away." Sam just chuckled at that.

The next two hours went by in silence, an occasional nurse coming in to check on Dean, express her sympathies to Sam, write things down, and walk out again. The droning sound of the respirator was slowly lulling Sam to sleep, it's rhythm hypnotizing. Sam was about to drift off, when someone else came into the room. 'Please don't let it be Iris again' he thought.

"Sam, it's time to go," Lou's voice brought him back to full alertness. "You can drive me, I'm beat, and I'm starving. How's a pizza sound?" She was at Dean's bedside, reading what the nurses has written, and scrutinizing the monitors. She jotted a few notes of her own down and replaced the chart to it's assigned place. "Come on Sam, they'll page me if anything happens. It's probably gonna be a long, uneventful night. I don't think you'll miss anything but a backache." She rounded the bed and took Sam by the hand, pulling him up and out of the chair with an awful lot of force for such a little person.

"You ever take no for an answer?" He asked her as she led the way out the door.

"No."

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Pizza in hand, they entered the house, both bleary-eyed and exhausted. Lou opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass for herself, and one for Sam. Handing him the glass, he just stared at it. "Go ahead Sam. You're over twenty-one and it's not gonna bite you. Besides, it's five o'clock somewhere. It goes great with pizza anyway, and it'll calm your nerves."

"Something to calm my nerves would be a godsend right now."

"Then drink up, there's more where that came from."

They ate, drank, and made small talk for a while, until Sam asked the question he'd had burning in his brain since this whole thing began.

"Hey Lou, what happened between you and Dean? Why don't the two of you talk anymore?"

"I wish I could tell you that Sam, but I can't."

"You can't or you won't?" The more time he spent with Dean, the more secrets he realized his brother kept.

"I can't tell you Sam. I can't tell you because I just don't know. It was like he woke up one day, flipped a switch, and decided I was shit to him. I wish I knew why Sam, I really do."

"I don't buy it. Tell me the whole story, from the beginning. I want to hear it."

"My whole story, from the beginning? You really don't know?"

"There's a lot of things I don't know. Enlighten me, please."

"Ok, but we're gonna need more wine."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"It was just me and my mom until I was twelve. I didn't have a dad, and didn't really want or need one either. Didn't know who he was and didn't care. My mom worked as a cook for some rich family in Arizona after she moved out there her hometown when she was pregnant with me. She eventually saved up enough money to open a bakery. We lived in the apartment above it for as long as I can remember. Until the fire. My mom died in the bakery, the firemen found me in the alley behind the building. I still have no idea how I got out there."

"That's when I came to live with Pastor Jim, and met you guys. You were both so cute. Dean was quiet, never saying much, but always watching and listening to everything, taking in every detail. He did everything he was told to, never complaining. He'd ask me if our moms were together, said that'd be nice so they weren't lonely. He was so sad."

"You, on the other hand, were loud, fussy, demanding, and defiant. You'd only been walking a few months, and got into everything. Jim tried to put things out of your reach, but John always told him not to. He said you had to learn your boundaries, which you did because you always overstepped them, every chance you got."

"I think Dean just got tired of you always getting in trouble, so he'd just follow you around, telling you '_no, don't touch that',_ or '_leave that alone.' _He was the only person you ever listened to. John was pretty much an emotional wasteland then. He'd just about shut himself off to everything but you two and learning the hunt. He was pretty new to it, but was already a force to be reckoned with. He learned everything at lightning speed. Unfortunately, that didn't leave much time for you guys, and held leave you two at Jim's a lot. And Jim was a busy man, so he'd leave you with me."

"Jim home schooled me until high school, so I was always around the first couple years. You were too young to remember then, but we'd watch TV, read stories, play games, tell secrets, or just goof around. The older you got, the less you were around, but every couple of months we were all together, and we sure had a good time."

"I lived my whole life with no father, and suddenly I had nothing but dads. They all had an opinion on what was good for me, but John's always trumped them all. He was the only one that had any real say, guess that's because he was one of the only ones that was a dad already."

"He was the one that decided I needed to learn how to shoot and fight. He said I'd need to defend myself someday, and I better know how. So, he taught me, and taught me well."

"That was his big mistake though, because I felt that if I could fight, I could hunt like the rest of them. Didn't matter that I was a girl. I begged to go on hunts with John or the others. John just said it was way too dangerous, and I'd get hurt. Naturally, everyone else agreed. Very few people argued with John."

"When I was sixteen, John came to drop you two off, and I decided I was going hunting with him, whether he liked it or not. I snuck into the backseat of the car, and laid there silently for hours. Man, he was pissed when he finally found me back there, all curled up and half asleep. He'd already been driving most of the day, and had no intentions of turning around and taking me back. That pretty much forced him to take me with him."

"He made me do everything, and I do mean everything. He thought it'd teach me a lesson, teach me that hunting wasn't the life for me. He was wrong. It only made me want to hunt more. I went on a few more easy ones after that over the next couple years."

Sam hadn't said a word, he just sat, totally engrossed in what he was hearing, most of it for the first time. He vaguely remembered some of what she said, but not much. He already had so many questions, but he didn't want to interrupt her train of thought.

"When I graduated from high school, much like you, I was graced with a full academic scholarship to Northwestern. I had no intentions of going. John said I was. Jim and John argued about it for days. John said I had to go, had to get an education, get away from this life. Jim said I was an adult and could make my own decisions. John finally won out, and I went. I came home every summer though. I would hunt as much as I could until I'd go back in the fall."

"That was right around the same time that Dean changed. He stopped talking to me, wouldn't look at me, wouldn't even acknowledge me unless you or John were there. He must have been pretty pissed. I guess he's been pissed off for the last seventeen years."

Sam did interrupt this time. "If it's any consolation, I missed you when you were gone. Jim's was never quite the same without you."

"Thanks Sam. Nice to know someone cared," she let out a sigh before she continued. "My first summer home was, well, let's just say interesting. Dean pretty much ignored me. We tip toed around each other. He would only talk to me when John would make him, and that was two word sentences at best."

"My second summer home was much worse. Dean would throw me an occasional insult, nasty comment, or go out of his way to annoy me. By then, he was thirteen and already seemed pretty full of himself."

"The third summer was more of the same, but he found a way to include belligerence and defiance into the mix. Do you remember how mad you'd get at him for the way he'd talk to me when he thought nobody was around?"

"Yeah, that summer I remember. He was always being a dick to you. I told him if he didn't stop, I'd tell dad. I begged him to tell me what his problem was, and he'd just tell me to shut up and mind my own business. I finally just stopped asking."

"The fourth summer, I was home, I made the effort to avoid him at all costs. The rare occasions we were in the same room together, he'd just glare at me. If looks could kill Sam, I'd be dead a thousand times over."

"What did Dad say? Didn't he see what was going on? Didn't he know what Dean was doing?"

"Dean was smart, Sam. He'd rarely pull that crap in front of Jim or John, and I never told them. I figured he had his reasons, and someday he'd either get over them or share them. I just wish I knew what those reasons were, because I'm still waiting."

"Whatever it is, it's buried in that stubborn ass brain of his behind that brick wall built up in there. No matter what I do, he isn't sharing, but then again, he rarely does," Sam commented.

"Yeah, well, that was the last summer I spent home. I left for med school the following fall. That was also the last summer I hunted too. There was no room for both."

"John would come and see me every now and then, usually on his way back to you guys after some hunt, but I didn't see you guys for almost five years."

"That was at your wedding. I remember how excited I was. I got to see you, and we got to wear suits. Pastor Jim performed the ceremony, and Dad gave you away. It was the one and only time I ever saw Dad dressed up, and in a tux no less. And Dean was less than thrilled about the suit."

"Yeah, you were happy to see me, but Dean sure hadn't changed. I don't think it was just at having to be dressed up either. He was still angry and bitter, about god knows what. He didn't hide his obvious displeasure of having to be there either."

"Everything was going great, until just after dinner. You had wondered off with one of Rick's cousins, just chatting the night away. I think you were chatting, anyway. Dean was off in a corner alone, getting drunk. Dean Winchester and an open bar were an accident waiting to happen. I think it took all of an hour for him to get totally plastered. That was when he decided to give Rick a piece of his mind."

"Is that what happened? Nobody would ever tell me what went on. I only remember some shouting, then Dean was gone. No one saw him for the rest of the night."

"Well, I'm gonna tell you what Dean did that night. Dean stumbled up to Rick, and started poking him in the chest, asking him who the hell he thought he was. He had no right to marry me, he wasn't good enough. Called him a pussy, said I deserved someone better. Like he'd know what I deserved anyway. Then he punched Rick, right in the face. I thought John was going to kill him. He'd attracted a pretty big crowd by now. That's what happens when you pick a fight with the groom, I guess."

"Before John could do anything, Jim and Bobby dragged Dean outside, and he was absent from the festivities the rest of the night. Jim came back, Bobby didn't. I guess Bobby got saddled with babysitting duty."

"Why the hell would Dean say all those things? He didn't even know Rick," Sam questioned.

"I don't know Sam. He was drunk and just went off. Have you ever been able to explain Dean's thought process?"

"You mean one of the mysteries of the universe, No."

"Thought so. By the time we got back from our honeymoon, a whole three days in Las Vegas, you guys were long gone. The next time I saw the two of you was when Rick and I had Jason. That was right before you left for school. And it was the last time I saw you."

"I remember. He was such a cute baby. Dean even liked him, I think."

"I think so too. After you left, John and Dean would stop in when they were passing through. Dean would rarely come in. He'd just sit out on the porch, even in the bitter cold. He'd be out there for hours sometimes. If John decided to spend the night, Dean would only come in when everyone else had gone to bed. But he'd sleep on the floor in Jason's room. I caught him a couple times, rocking him back to sleep. I don't think he knows that I saw him though, and I don't want him to know. It's my only good memory of adult Dean. He'd play with him in the mornings in his room until John decided it was time to leave. I'd never interrupt. I'd just wait until he'd had enough."

"Dean used to do that? Dean Winchester? Was he feverish, or possessed?" Sam couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"No Sam, he wasn't possessed. It was a lot like the way he'd be with you when you were little. John and Dean would be around every few months, just stopping in on their way to another job over the next few years."

" The last time I saw Dean was probably the worst day of my life. Rick and I were going to a birthday party when John called. He said Dean had been hurt, was in bad shape, and needed my help. I sent Rick ahead with Jason, told them I'd meet them later."

"John and Dean got to the house in about twenty minutes, and Dean was a mess. He'd been thrown into a tree on a simple salt and burn that he insisted on going on alone. He got cut up pretty bad, but never told John. John finally figured it out when Dean had spiked a 104 fever, and John needed to ice him down in the tub. He saw it when he took Dean's clothes off. He had a huge, infected wound on his back that should have had stitches put in it when he got it. He hid it because he thought John would be mad, Dean had insisted on going alone. He didn't want John to think he could take care of himself."

"The wound was bad. It had abscessed and it was filled with pus and blood. There were even pieces of bark in it. I lanced it, cleaned it out, and started pumping him full of antibiotics. I couldn't even stitch it closed, it was so bad."

"By the time I was done, he was out and John was furious. He started going on and on about how careless Dean had been by hiding what had happened. It was a simple wound, none of this would have happened if he'd just let John clean it out and stitch it. That was when I heard the knock on the door."

"Two policemen stood in front of me, and I had no idea why. The only thing I could think of was that they were looking for either John or Dean. That was a bad assumption. They told me there'd been an accident, and I think you know the rest."

Sam just shook his head in silence. He knew the rest. Her husband and son were dead, killed by a drunk driver on their way to the party, while she took care of Dean.

"I replay that day in my head all the time, Sam. If John hadn't shown up with Dean that night, I would have been with them, and I'd probably be dead too. That was over two years ago, and I haven't seen Dean since the funeral."

"I couldn't live in that house anymore after that, so I sold it, and moved here. Built this house out here in the middle of nowhere."  
"Why such a big house, anyway? This place is huge. Why not just live close to the hospital, your never here anywhere, are you?" Sam was curious about why the house had to be so big, and in the middle of nowhere.

"You really don't know Sam?"

"No, please enlighten me."

"That night got me thinking. If Dean had been able to get that would treated properly in the first place, he never would have gotten as sick as he did. Hunters can't always treat themselves, and sometimes need a place of sanctuary to heal, or when they need help. Let me show you something," she grabbed Sam by the hand, and led him to a door he had totally ignored before.

"You haven't seen the basement, have you?"

"No, do I want to know what's in the basement?"

"You'll see."

She opened the door, the lights automatically turning on. There were no stairs, just a long ramp down to the bottom. They descended the ramp, and Sam had to shake his head at what he saw in front of him.

The basement was a fully functional mini-ER, complete with just about everything she'd need to save someone's life.

"Holy shit. Who knows about this?" He couldn't help but ask. He'd never seen anything like it before.

"Most of the hunters do. They are safe here, and they can get proper medical care when they need it. I can't believe nobody told you. It's a hunter's safe house, Sam."

"Does Dean know? Did Dad know?"

"They both knew. Guess Dean didn't feel he needed to tell you though. Guess he though he'd never need any help. He really can be an asshole, can't he."

"Yeah, well, I sure as hell am gonna find out why. Enough is enough."

"Well, good luck with that one Sam. I'm going to bed."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Sam couldn't sleep. Not for lack of trying though. He got a good three hours in before the nightmare woke him. It was a familiar scene, he'd seen it live the night before. And it was just as horrifying. So, he laid there awake, waiting for the for the next couple hours to squeak by.

For two hours he laid there, and he just couldn't take it anymore. He dragged himself out of the bed and made his way to Lou's room. Maybe she was awake too.

Her door was open, the room pitch dark. He entered it silently, and just stood there staring at her from the foot of the bed. A rogue beam of moonlight cut through the window blinds, landing gently on her face. Sam thought that it made her look angelic in her sleep. Her face was peaceful and serene.

"Sam, are you practicing the Vulcan Mind Meld hands free, or are you staring at me for a reason?"

Her voice shocked him back to reality. "I couldn't sleep. I just wanted to see if you were awake."

"I am now. Is something wrong?"

"No, it's just getting late. You said you needed to be back at ten, and it's almost nine now. I was hoping we could get going soon."

"Alright Sam, I'm coming. Do you think you can navigate the kitchen and make some coffee while I take a shower?"

"I'll do my best," Sam told her, heading down to the kitchen. He found the coffee easily enough, but had no idea where the filters were. Giving up , he pulled off a paper towel and shoved it into the pot, dumping the coffee on top. "Guess I did learn something useful at Stanford after all."

Hearing the water running upstairs, Sam searched the rest of the kitchen. Finding the toaster, a frying pan, and coffee mugs. Opening the fridge, he pulled out the eggs, cheese, and butter. Locating the bread, he want to work making breakfast. "Breakfast at nine at night. This whole thing is really backwards, isn't it?"

Lou finally made it down thirty minutes later, still looking half asleep. Smelling coffee put a smile on her face and lit up her eyes though.

"Sit down, I made you breakfast. It is the most important meal of the day. Scrambled egg sandwich with cheese, and coffee. Breakfast of champions."

"Wheaties it the breakfast of champions Emeril," she smirked.

"Humor me."

"Ok. It's great Sam, thanks. I haven't had someone make me breakfast in a long time."

"It's the least I can do."

"Dean teach you how to cook that, because I sure as hell know it wasn't one of John Winchester's skills."

"No, actually, it was you."

"Ah grasshopper, the student has become the master," she just smiled at him, and started eating.

They finished in no time, shined off the rest of the pot of coffee, and with slight caffeine buzzes, drove back to the hospital.

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Nothing had changed much since they'd left, except some of the staff members. Sam took his place in the uncomfortable plastic chair at his brother's side. He looked better, a little anyway. He was starting to get some color back in his face. Sam held his hand, grateful for the warm feel of the flesh instead of the cold, dead feel it had earlier.

Lou was studying the chart, making notes here and there. The sound coming from the monitor was strong and steady, making her look pleased.

"The brain swelling has started to go down Sam. That's good. No fever yet, that's good too. Still has some blood coming from the kidneys though, but that's much better also. All in all Sam, I think he's doing remarkably well, considering."

"Do you think you can bring him around sooner?" Sam sounded hopeful.

"Chill out there Sparky, it's only been nine hours. If I see more improvement, I'll think about it, ok. But don't hold your breath. I know how you feel Sam, but I'm not rushing this. You just need to be patient."

"I know, it's just that until he wakes up, I don't think I'll believe he's really gonna be ok. Seeing is believing, you know."

"God Sam, you sound like Dean now. Don't you have any faith?"

"I think faith abandoned Dean a long time ago."

"You shouldn't think that way Sam. You know that sometimes shit just happens."

"Why does it always happen to us?"

"Good question. When you figure it out, you let me know. I've gotta get downstairs. I'll be back up to check on the two of you later. Page me if you need me, OK?"

"OK. See ya later."

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Sam sat in silence for only god knew how long when his thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

"Hi Sam. How are you today? I see Dean is doing better. I'm so glad to see that. He'll be up and around in no time, you'll see."

'Oh god' Sam thought. It was Iris. Sam wondered if she ever went home. Or if she even had a home. She always seemed to be turning up. "Hi Iris. What are you doing here?"

"I work up here. I'll be taking care of Dean while he's here, which is why I'm here now. I need to change his bandages. You're more than welcome to stay, if you want."

"No. I think I'll pass on the Faces of Death show right now. I'll go get some coffee, and come back."

"Sure thing Sam."

As Sam stepped out of the room, he leaned against the door frame to collect his thoughts. He was surprised to hear Iris talking, and it wasn't to him.

"You're a very lucky man Dean. You have so many people that care about you so much. You are really blessed. I can't wait for you to wake up, I want to get to know you. There must be something pretty special in there."

Sam just shook his head. Iris has a crush on a person she knows nothing about. And if she knew half of what Sam knew, she would be running away faster than if her hair was on fire. Most people didn't want to know what they knew.

Instead of going for the coffee, Sam stood in the doorway, watching Iris' every move. She pulled down the sheet to expose Dean's chest and abdomen. Gently removing the bandages, she slowly ran her fingertip along the length of the incision that had been made to save his life.

"I'm sorry this happened to you Dean. You didn't deserve it." She stroked the stitches like they were some small pet as she stared at his face. Wiping it down with something Sam assumed was an antiseptic, she recovered it with fresh bandages.

Sam just stood there wide-eyed. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. His brother was practically being molested by some love starved nurse while he was in a coma. Sam knew if she went the rest of the way under that sheet, she'd be sorry. When she'd finished changing the last bandages, she just tugged the sheet back up, and went to the bandages on Dean's leg.

Those bandages she changed quickly and efficiently, not wanting to expose the limb more than she needed to. Gathering her supplies, she ran her hand gently down the side of his face as she made to exit the room. Sam walked back in.

She jumped slightly when she saw him, her face slightly reddening. "Oh, Sam. Did you find the coffee?"

"Oh yeah, I found it. You all done?"

"Yep. He's all fresh and clean, until tomorrow. I'll catch you later Sam. It was nice to see you." She rushed out of the room like someone had just sucked all the oxygen from it and she was suffocating.

Taking his place back in his seat, he just looked at his brother and sighed. "That was the most disturbing thing I think I've ever seen. I am so not leaving you alone with her again while you're out. That was just way too weird," Sam said to his brother, who was unfazed by the whole ordeal. He was still in a coma after all. "Even in a coma, you can't keep the chicks away."

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The next day and a half dragged on at a snails pace. Sam and Lou would come to the hospital together. Sam would take his place at Dean's side, Lou would take her position in the ER. She would come up every couple hours to check up on them both, and when her shift was over, they'd go back to her house, giving Sam some small sense of normalcy.

Dean improved steadily each day, the swelling in his brain nearly gone. His kidney function was almost normal, and his face started to look like Dean again. And after Sam's conversation with Lou, there were no more awkward visits from Iris. She kept everything very professional.

"OK Sam. I'm cutting off the meds today, after we get him off that respirator. Do you want to stay, or would you like to step outside?"

"Try and move me from this spot and see what happens," he answered, and she just nodded.

"Ok, let's do this." She removed the tape holding the tube in place. Gently squeezing Dean's throat, she slid the tube out of his mouth as a nurse shut the machine off. For a brief moment, there was dead silence in the room.

They all stood and stared at Dean, waiting for him to take a breath. It took a few long seconds, but he finally let out with a hitched gasp, followed by steady breaths. Confident he was taking in air, Lou placed an oxygen mask over his face. Then, she finally breathed herself.

"That was a huge step Sam. He's breathing on his own. Things can only get better now." Lou placed her hand on Sam's shoulder, rubbing it reassuringly. Sam just patted her hand in silent thanks.

"Now we wait. He could wake up in hours, or it could take days. You just need to be patient. Talk to him. It may help bring him around faster. Irritate him, that may work even better."

The joke was lost on Sam for the moment. "Do you really think it'll be days?"

"If that were anyone else laying there, I'd say yes. But we are talking about Dean, aren't we. I won't worry if it does take days, but it would surprise me if it did."

"God, I don't think I can wait anymore."

"Well, that's up to Dean now, isn't it. I've got rounds Sam, then I'll be back. You know where to find me if you need me." She left, followed by the nurse she had brought with her, leaving Sam alone with Dean again.

"Ok, you heard her, you can wake your ass up anytime now. You've been sleeping for two days now dude. And you desperately need to shave. You're starting to look like a 'Lost' passenger."

Sam took his place in the crappy chair, and started rubbing Dean's hand. He hoped physical stimuli would rouse him sooner, especially considering how much Dean hated anyone non-female touching him. If anything would work, annoyance would.

Sam opened the laptop, bringing it with him for just this purpose. He opened iTunes, and started up the Metallica. Physical contact and Metallica. If that didn't work, nothing would. Sam sat there alone with his brother for hours, just listening to the music and waiting.

He'd fallen asleep sometime during his wait, and was woken by the sounds of swearing.

"Son of a bitch," then a "Damn it," then finally "Sam, would you come here and help me please?"

Sam turned to see what was going on, and scowled watching Lou trying to drag a rather large couch into the room. "What the hell are you doing?" Sam just asked her, stupefied.

"If we're gonna be here all day and night, we may as well be comfortable, right?"

"What do you mean, We?"

"I'm waiting with you Sam. Can't a doctor be interested in the welfare of her patient? Besides, I've got the next three days off, and nothing better to do but entertain you."

"I doubt you have nothing better to do."

"Well, you'd be wrong then. I'd like to see if scrambling his brains did anything for is personality anyway. My curiosity has gotten the better of me."

Putting the chair out into the hallway, they positioned the couch in it's place, the room barely big enough to hold it. They both plopped down on it and began their vigil.

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The next twenty-four hours came and went. Sam and Lou passed the time talking or sleeping. The room had no windows, preventing either one from knowing if it was day or night, and making it harder to keep track of time. They tried not to stare at the clock, it only made time go slower than the agonizingly slow pace it already was.

They had had long conversations ranging from college war stories, hunts, boyfriends and girlfriends, and caught up on the last few years that they hadn't seen each other. They even found a way to talk about John. Sometimes, they would laugh so loud, the nurses had to come in and remind them they were in a hospital. Somehow, but not surprisingly, the conversation drifted to Dean.

"Don't you two ever shut up? Can you see I'm trying to sleep over here?" They both heard the hoarse, whispered voice, and Sam was on his feet before the last words came out.

"Dean?" Sam asked, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"You were expecting Brad Pitt?"

"You're awake," Sam couldn't hide his excitement.

"Thanks for noticing Captain Obvious, and I wish I wasn't."

"How do you feel? Guess that's kinda a dumb question?"

"I feel like Humpty Dumpty after the fall. Someone's dancing on my head, throat's on fire, mouth is a desert, and I can't move. That about covers it."

"Gravity's a bitch, isn't it. Get him some water Sam," Lou finally spoke up reluctantly, raising the head of the bed just enough to let Dean swallow. "Drink it slow, I don't want you to choke."

When he finally got the whole cup down, Lou knew it was time for the inevitable. "Sam, could I have a few words with Dean alone, please?"

Sam looked at Lou, then at Dean. Dean's eyes had gone wide now. He knew he had no escape. Dean spoke up first, "Whatever you have to tell me, you can say in front of Sam."

"You really want Sam to hear what I have to say? If you do, I'm all for it. I was just trying to save you some embarrassment."

"Whatever, just spit it out."

"Ok. I've been thinking about this since they brought you in here, and I wasn't sure how to say it really, so I'm just gonna spit it out. Contrary to what you may believe Dean, I really do care about you. That being said, I don't give a flying fuck about your personal feelings for me at the moment. You can either help me or fight me, the choice is yours. You may not like me, but I am your doctor, and I expect at least a small amount of respect for that. If you choose to be a non-compliant, belligerent prick, I will not hesitate to medicate you so heavily that Sam will be wiping drool off your chin until your released. I put up with all your shit for John's sake, and I have no intentions of doing it anymore. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Crystal." Dean's one word response. His face had taken a look of shocked disbelief. Had he just heard what he thought he'd just heard. He knew he'd had by the way Sam snickered and smirked next to him. "Way to kick a man when he's down." That initiated another bout of quiet laughter from Sam.

"Good. Now, can I please get on with my examination of my patient?" It wasn't a question really, it was going to happen no matter what the answer was. Now in full doctor mode, Lou went about her exam, checking eyes, ears, chest, working her way down to his legs.

She lowered the bed back down flat, and moved down to the foot of it. In Dean's position, she was well out of his eyeshot. She pulled out a pen from her pocket, and lifted the sheet from Dean's legs. "Are you in any pain, besides your head?"

"No." Nice, short, one word answer. It was exactly what she expected. She knew better though.

She drew the pen down Dean's good leg, starting at the knee and ending at the foot, getting the reaction she expected to that as well. None. She looked at Sam, closed her eyes, and just shook her head. Replacing the sheet, she jotted down a few notes. Her exam was complete.

"I'll leave you two alone, I'm gonna take care of a few things. I'll be back."

"Thanks for the warning," Dean quipped.

"Your one step closer to the Thorazine, Dean. Keep it up," she hollered back at him as she walked out the door.

"Dude, who let Dr. Kevorkian treat me? And what's with all this hardware? Who am I, RoboCop?"

"Dean, you have no idea how bad you got messed up. You're lucky you're not dead. Can you just be thankful for that for five minutes, before you start bitching about even being here in the first place." Sam's voice was tired, and Dean could hear all the pent up emotion in it. He knew he didn't want to upset Sam anymore than he already was.

"How long have I been out? And is anyone going to tell me when I can get out of here?"

"I'm not even sure how long you've been here. Four, maybe five days. I'm not really even sure what day it is now. And you won't be getting out of here any time soon, so you may as well just drop that question now. Don't think I won't let Lou drug you up to keep you here. You are going to stay as long a necessary, whether you like it or not."

"Oh, sure, take her side. Thanks for the loyalty Sammy."

"I'm taking her side because she's right. Do you wanna know what all you did to yourself? Your skull in fractured, your brain was swollen and bleeding, your ribs are broken, your spleen is gone, you broke your back, and you almost had to have your leg amputated. I may have left a few things out, but you get the gist."

"Sam, my legs are still there, aren't they?" The tone of the question was deadly serious.

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"Because I can't move them. Why can't I move or feel them Sam?" He hadn't thought about the fact he couldn't feel his legs, until Sam brought it up. Sam knew he had to diffuse this situation immediately. He did not want Dean getting riled up right now.

"It's only temporary Dean. It's because your back was broken, and the swelling hasn't gone down yet. You just need to heal, that's all. You need to go against your nature and give it time. Can you do that, if not for yourself, then for me? Please."

He took in a long, deep breath, and held it for a few seconds. Slowly letting it out, he answered. "I'll try. Just keep your lap dog on a leash, will you?"

"That's not funny. You've had that coming for a long time. Just keep it civil, and you may get out of here alive, without a foot up your ass, ok?"

Lou stepped back in, with something in her had that looked awfully suspicious. Wordlessly approaching the bed, she uncapped a syringe, plunged it into the port, and squeezed in the contents.

"Hey, what the hell is that for. I'm behaving."

"That's for the pain you aren't in Dean. Do you think I was born yesterday? You'll thank me later."

It didn't take long for it to take effect, the warm feeling flooding over him in minutes. And it he didn't feel the pain anymore. Not in his head, stomach, shoulders, nowhere. "He's gonna be out in a couple minutes, Sam. You should probably get something to eat. It'll be a few hours. Don't worry, he'll wake up again."

"Thanks. You wanna come with me?"

"Thought you'd never ask. Sam, I'm sorry I had to talk to him like that, but I needed to get it off my chest. I won't tolerate his behavior for long. He's got to understand he won't be up and running in a couple days with a couple aspirin. This is going to be weeks, maybe even months. The sooner he accepts that, the better. He'll get out of here a lot faster the more cooperative he is. I assume I can count on your help for that?"

"Always."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Dean spent the next two days in the ICU, the steady doses of pain medication keeping him quiet and compliant. Sam wondered if Lou was keeping her word, and medicating him to shut him up. He didn't care though, as long as it kept peace, it was fine by him.

Dean had improved so much that Lou felt he could be moved from ICU, and into a private room. The need for round the clock monitoring long since passed. She jotted down the order, and handed it to Iris to take care of. Iris, who always seemed to be around. She then prepared herself to go tell Dean, or rather Sam. They danced around each other, using Sam as a sort of messenger. Even when they were all in the room together, Lou would address Sam, and Dean would address Sam, never speaking to each other, even though they were mere feet apart. Sam and Lou both knew it was a childish game, but sometimes Dean could be a child.

Sam must have sensed something was up. It was like he had an internal radar when it came to Dean. He approached her at the nurses' station, and started questioning her.

"He's doing a lot better, isn't he?"

"Yes Sam, he is. I was just on my way to tell you. We're moving him out of ICU. He keeps up this pace, he could be out of here really soon. Another couple days, we'll be able to remove that head contraption. He's also had some reaction to stimuli in his legs. His back is going to hurt like a bitch for a while once his feeling comes back, but he'll be good as new in no time."

"Should I go tell him?"

"I want to watch him for one more day, then we'll probably send him down in the morning."

"How long before he's out of here? He's trying really hard to behave himself, but his patience is wearing really thin. He may not be able to restrain himself much longer, before he blows."

"When he has most of the feeling in his legs back, I'll let him go. Not until. It could be tomorrow, it could be next week. Just keep assuring him it will happen. Besides, if I release him before can walk, he'll just end up at my house. So, his two choices are my place or here. You want let him decide."

"I already know what he'll decide. I say he stays here."

"Good idea Sam."

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Iris listened to every word, her curiosity getting the better of her. She had made herself readily available whenever Dean needed anything. She'd change his bandages, give him sponge baths, or just come on for small talk. Always when Sam wasn't around though. Dean liked her, in a professional sort of way. He was totally unaware of previous events involving Iris. Sam hadn't bothered to tell him, he thought the subject closed.

She pocketed the order, and quickly left the nurse's station. She stopped at a supply cabinet, extracted a few items, and made her way to Dean's. room. Approaching the bed, she noticed he was only half awake, just staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Hi Dean. How do you feel today?"

"Hey Iris. You know, feeling high as a kite. Time for another sponge bath, or are you here to take me out dancing?"

She smiled and let out a soft giggle. "I wish. No, just here to draw blood. Need to run some more tests."

"Oh great, how many more holes can you people put in me anyway? It's not that embalming needle again, is it? That one really smarted."

"I'm sorry. If it's any comfort, I'm gonna draw it from your foot. At least it won't hurt."

"Thanks for the reminder."

"Sorry, guess that was a dumb thing to say, wasn't it?"

"It's ok, I forgive you. Just go to town."

She lifted the sheet, and went about her business, tucking the vial she'd just filled into her pocket. She pinched the skin tight, making sure no blood trickled out, and gently replaced the sheet.

"All done. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Didn't feel a thing." Dean's answer, his mind obviously far away.

"I'll see you later, Dean."

"I know."

She would miss if he left ICU. And that made her sad.

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Shit hit the fan that evening, and it caught Dean smack in the face as it flew back. He had been more tired in the last few hours then he'd been in the last two days combined. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Sam just let him sleep, figuring everything catches up with Dean eventually.

Lou had returned to the ER to finish out her shift, checking on Dean once before she gave Sam the news and headed down. It had been a long shift, but she was thankful it was finally over. She wanted to check on Dean one more time before she left, giving them the ok to move him out.

She noticed it the minute she walked into the room. The light from the hallway landing directly on Dean's face illuminated the sheen of sweat across his brow. Looking into his eyes, they were glassy and distant. He had a fever.

Hitting the call button, she started undressing Dean's leg. It was healing nicely, no discolorations had appeared, and the purple and black bruises were starting to turn yellow and green. Nothing looked unusual. Iris entered the room, seeing Dean hadn't called, but Lou had.

"Iris, can you rewrap that leg. And blood draw for a complete work-up. He's got a fever, and I want to know why. When was the last time anyone checked on him?"

"I checked on him a couple hours ago, he was fine then."

"I want the white blood cell count yesterday, you got that?"

"I'll get right on it." She was gone and back in an instant.

'I need to find Sam. Do you know where he went?"

"Cafeteria, I think. He left about an hour ago. He should be back soon. Do you want me to have him paged?"

"No, I'll find him. Cancel that order to move him out of here. He's not going anywhere until that fever is gone. And we need to figure out why he has it in the first place."

Iris began drawing the ordered blood samples, opting for the usual spot on the arm this time. She filled one, then a second, and finally a third, pocketing one and placing the other two on the tray. Dean slept through the whole thing, not really caring what was going on at the moment.

Lou made her way to the elevators, intent on hunting down Sam. She didn't have to go far. The doors opened and out he came. He immediately noticed something was wrong.

"Sam, how long have you been gone?"

"Not long, maybe an hour. Dean fell asleep, so I went to get some fresh air. Why, what's wrong?"

"Did he look alright when you left him?"

"Yeah, he was fine, just really tired. What the hell is going on?" Sam was starting to fell some panic in the pit of his stomach.

"He's got a fever Sam, and he's pretty lethargic. How long had he been sleeping before you left?"

"A couple hours. He started snoring, that's when I left. What does this mean?"

"It means he probably has an infection somewhere. It's not his leg, that looks fine. It must be somewhere else. Damn it Sam, I thought by now the risk of infection was over. With all the antibiotics we're pumping into him, I don't see how anything could be growing in there. I'm increasing the dosage, and he's staying up here for the time being."

"Is he awake?"

"No. He's out cold. It's gonna be another long night Sam. You might want to get some coffee. You may need it."

"Maybe later."

Sam took off towards Dean's room. Iris was there when he entered. She was gently wiping the sweat from his brow with a cold, damp cloth.

"Hey Sam. I was just on my way out. Don't worry, I'm sure everything will be ok."

Sam was really sick of Iris telling him not to worry, and that everything would be ok. Right now, all he could do was worry, and things were definitely far from ok. His feelings about Iris were getting harder and harder to hide too.

"Weren't you just leaving? I'd like to be alone with my brother please."

"Sorry, Sam. I'll leave you two alone." She dropped the cloth on the bedside tray, and left, not looking back. Good thing too. Sam was shooting daggers at her with his eyes.

"You really enjoy the company here this much that you don't want to leave?" Sam picked up the towel, and continued where had left off. Dean just slept. It was all he could do.

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The blood tests yielded nothing that Lou didn't already know. The elevated white cell count told her Dean had an infection, somewhere. His fever hovered between 100 and 101 for four days. And what little feeling he'd regained in his legs, he'd seemed to have lost. He'd just stepped back to square one, and someone put a wall up around it, leaving him there idling, unable to go forward or back.

Dean was the most frustrated though. He was always tired, only able to keep himself awake for a couple hours at a time. He couldn't move, and the increase in antibiotics made him nauseous all the time. He didn't want to eat, didn't want to drink, didn't want to do anything but sleep. He was tired of being on his back all day and night, with nothing to look at but the ceiling. He was too tired to even release his frustration, so he just let it all build up inside. He was a powder keg, just waiting for a spark. And when it sparked, he was gonna blow.

"Dean, can you wake up for me for a minute?" Lou asked him. He opened his eyes in response to her question. He figured it was enough.

"I think we can remove that collar now. You'll definitely be more comfortable then. Once it's off, no sudden jerking head movements, OK."

"Guess that means I can't hit the AC/DC concert then."

"No, you can't." She removed the pins, unclasped the brace, and, supporting his head in her hand, slid the whole contraption off, gently easing Dean's head down onto an awaiting pillow.

Dean never thought he could be so happy just to be able to turn his head side to side, or shrug his shoulders. What he really wanted to sit up though. Being on his back was driving him crazy.

"Can I sit up now that you've let me out of the straight jacket?"

"Not yet. I don't want the unnecessary pressure on your back just yet. I'm sorry."

Down at the foot of the bed, Lou pulled back the sheet, once again praying for some kind of response from Dean's legs. She took a long look at Dean's foot. Something wasn't right.

"Dean, has someone been shooting you up through the feet? You have track marks here like a junkie." And he did. There were five obvious needle marks, the veins in his foot slightly puffy and bruised under the skin.

"You should know, you send Iris in here every day to use me as a pin cushion and suck me dry. Then she gives me a sponge bath, and changes my bandages. This place sucks, it has no variety. You could send in a hot nurse every now and then, couldn't you?"

"She's drawing blood from you every day?"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"Where's Sam?"

"How the hell would I know, I was sleeping when you barged in here."

"I've gotta go check on something. I'll be back." She almost sprinted from the room.

"Don't rush," Dean said to the empty room.

Lou ran down the hall to the nearest stairwell, cell phone in hand. Calling Sam, she was dumped straight into voicemail. Sam had to be somewhere in the hospital since his phone was off. She did the only thing she could do, and left him a message.

"Sam, it's Lou. I'm starting to think Dean's problems aren't entirely physical. I'm gonna check a couple things out. Call me when you get this message, and I'll try to explain," and she flipped her phone closed.

She came up to the nurse's station, noticing the obvious absence of Iris. She turned to go back to Dean's room. He was fully awake now, and looked like he'd been breathing fire.

"Dean, has Iris done anything else for you? Has she said anything unusual to you? Does she come in to see you when Sam's not here?"

Dean turned his head to look at her, grateful he could move at all. "I don't know. I haven't exactly been paying much attention. Yeah, she's here everyday when Sam isn't. So what? At least she cares if I get better. It's more than I can say for you." Dean's patience had worn out completely, and he was ready for this fight.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I'm sick of you telling me to be patient, it's only temporary. I'm not any better then I was when I first got here. I'm not getting better, and you don't give a damn. You just keep pumping me full of drugs that make me sick, and tell me to wait. How much longer do you think I can listen to this shit? Why don't you find me a doctor that knows what they're doing, and leave me alone."

"Dean, listen to me. I think I know why you aren't getting any better. I think Iris is doing something to you. I just need to figure out what to do about it."

"Well, figure it out somewhere else, and leave me alone. Do you have any idea how crazy you sound? You can't figure out what's wrong, so you just start making shit up. Just get out of her, please."

"Fine. Have a nice life Dean. If I never see you again, it will be too soon!" She stormed out of the room, running down the hall and kicking the stairwell door open.

Sam saw the whole thing. Saw her run from Dean's room and exit down the stairs. And she looked very angry. Entering Dean's room, his face was a mirror image of Lou's.

"What just happened in here?" It didn't register immediately that not only were Dean's head and shoulders free, but he was sitting up. When it did, he chose to ignore it.

"I fired her."

"You did what?"

"You heard me, I fired her. She can't get the job done, she needs to go. Plain and simple."

"Have you lost your mind? Oh, I get. You've been dying to lay into her since the moment you saw her, and you finally did it. Just couldn't keep it in anymore, could you. You're alive because of her, and this is the thanks she gets. You really can be a prick, can't you. You've pushed her so far away, she may as well be on Mars. What did she ever do to deserve this? You owe me some kind of explanation. You may not want her in your life, but I do, so spill."

"Drop it Sam. We are not having this conversation."

"Oh. yes we are. What is it Dean, are you jealous of her, are you….wait a minute. You pushed her away when she left for school. She left you. Oh my god, why didn't I see it before?"

"Sam, I said drop it!"

"You're in love with her, aren't you? That explains everything. Why you push her away, alienate her, pretend she doesn't exist. You think she rejected you when she went away. Tell me I'm wrong Dean."

"Sam, I'm warning you, if you don't shut up, I'm gonna……."

"You're gonna what Dean, kick my ass? I'd like to see you try."

"Sam, please," Dean choked.

"Please what, Dean. Drop it? No, I won't drop it. This needs to stop. You need to grow up."

"Sam, please….I'm gonna be sick." The instant he said it, he turned a sickly shade of green. Sam crossed the room in two quick steps, the only thing within reach the water pitcher. Ripping off the lid, he placed it under Dean's chin just in time to catch the contents of Dean's stomach inside. When he was finally finished, his head went limp against the pillow, his eyes closed tight.

"Can we discuss this later, Sam, please?"

"Fine, but we WILL discuss it later."

"Sam, can you lower the bed back down. I wasn't supposed to sit it up, and I think I'm sorry I did." Head down, he'd fallen asleep in seconds, or was doing a very good job pretending.

Sam just sat there staring at his brother, trying really hard to figure him out. He was totally unaware of the audience they had.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**Sitting in front of a computer at the ER nurse's station, Lou started searching for the information she was looking for. She was pretty sure she knew most of the answers, but confirmation was always a good thing before you started accusing someone. And confirmation is exactly what she got. Grabbing the information she'd printed, she got in her car and took off. She was going to put a stop to this if it was the last thing she'd do.**

**It only took her ten minutes to pull up in front of the apartment. It was a not in the best of neighborhoods, and she broke into it with relative ease, the lock being no match for even a rusty hunter. The apartment was small, and sparsely furnished, only having the bare necessities. It was cold and unwelcoming. **

**The first place she looked was in the kitchen. Checking the refrigerator, she came up empty. ****Next, to the bathroom.**** Empty there as well. ****Onto the bedroom.**** She rummaged through dresser drawers, under the bed, and in the nightstand, coming up empty in all of them. She turned to the closet, the only other place for her to look. **

**Opening the closet door, she struck gold. It was devoid of clothes, containing only a small table covered with candles. Charms and trinkets were intermingled with them. There were symbols painted here and there, some she'd recognized. And on the wall above, there were pictures. ****Pictures of Dean.**** Anger set in when she realized that most of the pictures were hers.**

**"That bitch! She took those from my house. I'm ****gonna**** kill her!" She slammed the door shut, and stormed out of the apartment, making no effort to hide the fact she'd been there. She was ****gonna**** find Iris, and one way or another, stop her.**

**She dialed Sam one more time, knowing she'd get voicemail again. She left him another message, telling him she was on to something. She also told him not to leave Dean alone, that he was in danger, and keep Iris away from him at all costs.**

**Once she got out of town, she drove at a steady pace, trying to piece it all together in her head. It was starting to make sense, in a sick, twisted way. She initially thought Iris was poisoning Dean, but after seeing that closet, she was pretty sure there was more to it than that. She'd heard the rumors about Iris, but didn't really believe them. She seemed too quiet and mousy to be into anything supernatural.**

**She never noticed the car ride up right behind her, ****it's**** front end practically kissing her bumper. The car cut around her on the left, pulled up slightly in front of her, and jerked hard right. Lou's reaction was instantaneous. She swerved to avoid hitting the car, smashing straight into a tree she never saw right in front of her. The airbag deployed instantly, hitting her square in the face. She took one last look at the little purple car, before darkness overtook her.**

**The smelling salt brought her to consciousness. She had a headache the size of Texas, and was pretty sure she had a concussion. There was dried blood caked on her face, and in her eyes. She would have wiped it away if her hands weren't bound above her head, as she hung from a rafter in the old barn, her feet inches off the ground. It didn't take her long to figure out where she was.**

**"Wake up Doc. We need to talk, I think." Iris was making sure the rope draped over the beam was securely fastened to the wall.**

**"Why are you doing this?" **

**Iris responded without a second thought. ****"Why ****an**** I doing what?**** Killing people on my family's land? ****Shouldn't that be obvious?"**

**Realization hit her instantly at ****Iris' confession****. The charms and symbols on the wall in her apartment. They were Dominican. ****Symbols of Dominican witchcraft.****"You're using witchcraft to kill innocent people.**** Why?"**

**""The two they found, they were innocent. For them, I'm sorry. But the other two, they were here to plan the demolition of my family home. I grew up in that house, but you knew that, didn't you?"**

**"Yeah, I know your parents owned this farm. They sold it to developers, and got pretty damn rich from it. Why kill them, it wasn't their fault?"**

**"My parents didn't sell this ****land,**** they were cheated out of it. It had been in my family for generations, all the way back to my great-grandparents. And for a few bucks, they just let it go, like it was nothing. I wanted to raise my family here, like my parents, and their parents ****before .**** And now, that'll never happen."**

**"So, you killed people for revenge? Is that it?"**

**"No. I killed them to stop them. My great-grandmother was a powerful woman. She was a Dominican witch. Before she died at 121, she taught me a thing or two about her craft. Not much really, but just enough for ****be**** to bring that ****ciguapa**** here. I knew if people kept dying here, they'd never build on this land. Eventually, I could get it back for my family. So far, I've been right, haven't ****I.****"**

**"Yeah, because that makes perfect sense.**** And what does any of this have to do with Dean? Why are you doing this to him?"**

**"I knew before they brought him in that he'd been at the house. I couldn't believe that he'd lived. Then I saw him, and I knew I had to have him. Anyone that could survive after being under her control had to be pretty special. I couldn't let him leave the hospital, not before I made him love me. But he just wouldn't. And now I know why. He can't love me because he loves you. You're the one keeping us apart. If I get rid of you, I know he'll love me. You owe me one anyway, ****remember****. Dying is the least you could do for me."**

**"You're insane. First of all, that's not a fair trade, and second, you think Dean loves me? He can't even stand to be in the same room with me. That's some crazy kind of love."**

**"I heard them arguing about it. Dean and Sam were arguing about you. I heard everything they said. What makes you so special anyway?"**

**"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. So, how did you do it? How did you keep Dean sick? The least you could do is ****tell**** me before you kill me."**

**"I'm not ****gonna**** kill you, not just yet. But I will eventually. I still need you for a little while."**

**Clearing the little table beside her with one swift swipe of her arm, she produced a small, burlap sack. From the sack, she pulled out a small, clay bowl. It had various symbols carved into it, much like the ones painted on the wall in her closet. **

**"Do you know what this is?"**

**"Shot glass for an elephant?"**

**"You're very funny ****Doc,**** no it's a wish bowl. When I fill it with someone's blood, and wish for something, it happens. If it weren't for me, he would have been better a long time ago. I wish for a fever, he gets one. I wish for him to lose that little bit of feeling he got back, he loses it. I wish for him to forget whatever feelings he has for you, he forgets them. It's that simple. Only that last one, that's ****gonna**** require your blood too."**

**"And you think I'm ****gonna**** donate?"**

**"Not willingly. But that's what I have this for." She sported a rather large dagger, adorned with matching symbols. "Unfortunately for you, for that wish to work, you have to die. The feelings die with you. ****Simple as pie, really."**

**"You ever try to make a pie? What a pain in the ass. Why can't you just make him love you with your little wish bowl there? Wouldn't that have been a lot easier?"**

**"Don't you think I ****tried.**** It didn't work, I already told you that. The love he feels for you couldn't be overpowered. The only way to overcome it is to destroy it. He couldn't love me with you in the way."**

**"Guess that's ****a my**** bad. Do you really think that if you kill me, Dean will love you? Do you really think that's going to work?"**

**"When I nurse him back to health, he'll come to love me. It's inevitable, you'll see. Oh wait… no you ****wont****."**

**"Guess you don't know Dean very well. And what are you planning to do about Sam? He is already suspicious of you. How long do you think it will be before he figures this all out? I did, didn't I?"**

**"Don't worry about Sam. It's quite obvious he does pretty much whatever Dean tells him anyway. And I couldn't hurt ****him,**** Dean cares for him way too much. I really don't have ****anymore**** time to chat, I've got to get to the hospital and get one more donation from Dean. Then I can finish this." She left, leaving Lou hanging there alone, in the dark.**

**Dean had been asleep for hours, after one more bout with his stomach. Sam figured it must be the increase in antibiotics making him sick. He didn't want to think it was their argument that made him throw up like that. It would be a first. **

**He needed to get some air, deciding it was safe to go take a short walk. Once outside and in the cool night air, he flipped opened his phone and turned it on It indicated he had messages waiting. He dialed in and started to listen. **

**The first message was vague, and didn't make much sense. The second was even more confusing. How was Dean in danger from Iris? He knew she was a little weird, but dangerous? He just couldn't see that?**

**Sam headed back in, stopping at the ER nurse's station. "Excuse me, is Dr. Carpenter here? I need to speak to her."**

**One of the nurses looked over to him, "She was here a few hours ago, checking some things online, ****then**** she just took off. ****Looked like she was in a hurry too."**

**"You have no idea where she went?"**

**"No, but if you want to search the browser history, maybe you can figure it out. Maybe what she was looking for will tell you where she went."**

**She pulled out a chair in front of the computer ****Lou'd**** been at, motioning for Sam to sit down. Sam started clicking away, checking one screen after another. They all led back to Iris or the farmhouse. He saw that Iris' family had owned the land that the farmhouse stood on, and that it had been sold for a pretty penny. Another website was about certain poisons, and their effect on the human body. And yet another was Iris' address. That all didn't help Sam much, but it was a start. Everything led back to Iris.**

**"Thanks for your help," Sam said to the nurse as he left the station to head back upstairs.**

**As he got off the elevator, he noticed someone coming out of Dean's room. And damn it if it wasn't Iris. He ducked around a corner, hoping she hadn't ****see**** him. Sam decided to follow her, maybe he could figure out what she was up to. He stopped long enough at Dean's door to see he was still asleep, and continued his surveillance.**

**She entered one of the elevators, Sam was assuming to leave, since she was in street clothes. He took the stairwell, hoping to make it down to the bottom before she did. He was in luck, because as he stepped through the door, the elevator opened, and out she came. **

**He continued following her, out to the parking lot. Watching which way she was headed, he sprinted to the Impala, intent on not losing her.**

**Short cutting through the lot, he found the little purple car ****easily,**** it stood out like giant in a room of midgets. Keeping a safe distance, he followed her every turn, twist, and curve, until she finally made it to the rural roads. Once they were out in the middle of nowhere, Sam knew where she was going. This was the route to the farmhouse.**

**Pulling up to the barn doors, Iris got out of the car and went inside. Sam killed the engine at the end of the driveway, not wanting to give himself away. Tucking a .45 into his pants, and a knife in his back pocket, he approached the barn on foot, as quietly as humanly possible.**

**Iris had left the door slightly ****open,**** and Sam slipped in silently. The barn was so dark ****inside,**** he couldn't have seen shit on white carpet. He had to rely on memory, and stealthily made his way to one of the animal stalls. He crouched down, trying to get his bearings and waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.**

**He heard Iris then. She struck a match, and lit a lantern, ****it's**** light illuminating enough for Sam to see the messy situation he'd stepped into. He saw Lou hanging from the rafter, her face covered ****in dried blood. Her hands high above her head, she was strung up like a piece of meat, waiting for Rocky to come in and start punching. **

**She was between Sam and Iris, who stood at the little table, sporting a small clay bowl and a rather sharp looking dagger. She pulled something out of her pocket, and poured it into the little bowl. Picking up the bowl and knife, she approached Lou. Lou made a couple feeble attempts to kick Iris, but with nothing to brace herself against, all she succeeded in doing was hurting her wrists and shoulders.**

**Sam could see her raise the dagger, as she chanted something that sounded Spanish. He couldn't really make it out, it was almost a whisper. Gun in hand, he burst from the stall faster ****then**** Iris could blink.**

**"Drop it Iris. Don't make me shoot you."**

**"You won't shoot me Sam. You only kill monsters, not people, and you'd never hurt a girl."**

**"I've been thinking about picking it up though, so, now may be a good time to start."**

**Iris backed away from Lou, still clutching dagger and bowl in hand. She watched his every move. Keeping his gun trained on Iris, he made his way to the rope tied to the wall that suspended Lou off the ground.**

**"Hey Sam, nice of you to drop by.**** You come to hang out with me?" Lou had never been so happy to see someone in her whole life.**

**"Yeah, right after I take out the trash," he answered.**

**"As much as I've enjoyed the company, you think you can get me down from here. My arms are going numb. I'm not as young as I used to be."**

**Pulling out his knife, he started hacking through the rope, his eyes never leaving Iris. Once he'd finally cut through, Lou went sprawling to the floor. Sam tossed her the knife, and she cut her hands free of the remaining bonds, and dragged herself to her feet.**

**"Sam, Iris here has been a very bad girl. It seems she's a witch."**

**"Dr. Carpenter, that's not a very nice thing to say. You've really hurt my feelings."**

**"Shut up, I said witch, not bitch. The truth hurts, doesn't ****it.**** It appears that she's the one that conjured up that creature, you know, the one that almost killed Dean. And now she thinks she can make him love her by casting a spell on him. I think you need to hand that bowl over, bitch. Your game ends here."**

**Scanning the room, Lou's eyes settled on a broken wood slat from one of the stall doors. It was about the size of a boat oar, and Lou grabbed it from the floor, and in a few short steps, was in striking range of Iris. She brought the makeshift weapon around in one quick swing with all the strength she has left in her abused arms, connecting with Iris' shoulder. She dropped like a rock, dagger sent flying as she held firm to the bowl. She'd placed her ****daggerless**** hand over the top so ****it's**** precious contents would remain inside. Lou straddled her, raising her weapon again, and brought it down hard on Iris' head. She was out like a light.**

**"Sam may not hurt girls, but I sure as hell will," Lou said as she dropped the slat, taking the cup from Iris' lax grip and kicking her once in the ribs.**

**Gathering a handful of dried hay from the ground, she started stuffing it in the bowl, using is as a sponge to absorb the blood inside. ****Dean's blood.**** Once she'd fully stuffed it and there was no free standing fluid, she took it to the table, picking up the sack it had come from. Sam just stood there, wondering what the hell she was doing. As if she could read his mind, she explained.**

**"She was using this bowl Sam to cast a spell on Dean. Her spell was keeping him from getting better. She wanted to keep him in the hospital for as long as it took for him to love her. Guess he would have been there forever, because Dean Winchester will never love anyone."**

**Sam wanted to reply to that, but just bit his tongue. Now was not the time to start this conversation.**

**Lou stuffed the bowl back into ****it's**** sack, placed it on the ground, and started stomping on it, smashing it into little pieces. "We need to burn this thing Sam. You got any salt on you?"**

**"Don't ****I**** always." **

**Sam pulled a small container of salt from his pocket, and tossed it to her. She reached over to the lanterns on the wall, shaking each one, hoping they weren't all empty. The last one she grabbed was half full, and she yanked it off the wall, twisted it open, and doused the sack with every last drop inside. Retrieving the matches off the table, she struck one, and set the bag a blaze.**

**Neither her or**** Sam had seen Iris inching her way over to where the dagger had landed. By the time Sam noticed her, it was too late. All he had time to do was scream Lou's name, as the dagger went slicing through the air, aimed straight at the center of Lou's back. She turned her head just in time to see the dagger hit ****it's**** mark, and bury itself to the hilt in her flesh.**

**Dean felt the warmth start to creep in. First in his feet, then slowly working ****it's**** way up to his calves, through his thighs, and into his back. Then the pain hit him like a Curt Schilling fastball to the face. He was sleeping peacefully, ****then**** suddenly, he was in agony.**

**It took every ounce of concentration he had to find and hit the call button, squeezing it hard enough he was sure he'd crushed it. A nurse entered, quickly noting his colorless, pain contorted face and his rapid breathing. She also noticed the way he white knuckled the call button in one hand, and the bed rail in the other. She didn't need to ask what was wrong, she already knew.**

**"Try to breath deep and relax, I'll be right back."**

**Hanging tight is exactly what he did. He couldn't have let go of that hand rail even if he wanted to. The nurse returned quickly, pumping the IV line with one medication, then another. In a matter of minutes, the agony subsided to a dull ache, and his body finally started to relax, his breathing returning to normal.**

**He could feel everything, from the pain in his leg to the tingling in his feet. What he could do without again was the feeling of someone sticking a knife into his back.**

**"Standing order, muscle relaxant and pain meds. Dr. Carpenter thought this may happen. Do you need anything else?"**

**"Where's my brother? Have you seen him?"**

**"He left a couple hours ago. I'm sorry, I don't know where he went, but he'll be back. He's never gone for very long."**

**"Thank-you."**** Dean just closed his eyes and relaxed, thankful that for once, they'd sent in a hot one to take care of him.**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Sam couldn't move. He just stood there in shock as he saw Lou drop like a rock to the ground, the dagger buried so deep in her back he was sure it had to be poking through the flesh in her chest. His shock was short-lived though, and he sprung into action. Iris was on her feet, making her way for the door. Sam cut her off in three steps, his long legs covering ground in half the time Iris could.

Interlacing his fingers, he essentially made his hand into a club, and letting his anger take over, swung up with all his strength, catching Iris square in the jaw. Her head cracked back as she flew into the wall behind her, knocking everything off the shelf above, and on to herself. She laid there limp, seemingly out cold.

Sam rushed to Lou's side, her body still, her face pale. The sight of the dagger handle making him sick. Fighting the urge to bring up the lunch he'd never had, he hesitantly checked for a pulse. The lack of bleeding making him feel pretty sure he wouldn't find one. But he did. He gently rolled her onto her side so she wasn't face down on the dirty floor.

"Sam, listen to me. Do not pull that out, whatever you do. It's the only thing that's stopping me from bleeding to death, and it'll leave a nice, big hole in my lung. That would not be a good thing." She coughed the last words out, spraying blood from her mouth onto her lips.

Sam took Lou's hand, talking to her softly, reassuringly. "Just relax, you're gonna be ok. It's not as bad as it looks."

"She squeezed his hand back, returning the sentiment. "You're full of shit Sam, but thanks for the words of support."

"Don't talk like that, you're gonna be just fine. Besides, Dean's gonna owe you big for this one. And you need to be around to collect. I can't wait to see the apology come out of his mouth. I think he owes you at least that."

"For that, I'll try to live. I'll need to see that to believe it though."

"Now you sound like Dean."

"Way to kick a girl when she's down, Sam."

"Oh God, now you really sound like Dean."

She coughed again, spraying more blood, this time across her face, arm, and all over the floor. Sam tried to gently wipe it away, tears starting to well in his face.

"Don't do that Sam, Winchesters don't cry. Look at it this way, maybe now, I can finally kick John's ass."

"That's not funny," Sam was pretty sure Lou wasn't going where John ended up.

"Come on, it's just a little funny."

"What are you doing, channeling Dean now?"

"Do you know what she said Sam? She said you two were arguing, about me. Wanna tell me what that was all about?"

"Not right now, I think we can save that for later." Sam was so not going there right now.

"Sam, since we're not gonna chit chat all night, do you want to get me out of here? I really don't want to die here on this floor."

"The car's at the end of the driveway, you want to walk, or should I go get it?"

"I think maybe you should go get it. That sounds like a really good idea. I tell you what, I'll wait right here, if you don't mind."

"Valet service, what a treat."  
"Sam, help me up, and leave me your gun, just in case."

Sam slid his arm under her shoulder, and tried as gently as he could to lift her into a sitting position. When she was upright, he slid her over to a wall, propping her up against it. He put his gun in her good hand, and sprinted out of the barn to get the car.

He was gone no longer then ten seconds, and Iris was on her feet again, slowly advancing on Lou. She had nothing but murder in her eyes now. Her plans had all been ruined, and now she just wanted to make Lou pay. And where the hell did she find that axe?

"You really think I'm gonna let you out of here alive, you bitch?"

"Don't you ever give up? Can't you see you're done. Just stop already, it's over. Look at yourself, what makes you think someone like Dean would ever love you anyway? For one thing, you're crazy, and for another, everything you are goes against every fiber of his being. He hunts and kills things like you."

"Shut up!" Iris lunged forward, bringing the axe up, ready to strike.

As weak as she was, she raised Sam's .45, aimed, and fired. And her aim was dead on. Iris crumpled to the ground in a heap, bullet hole right between her eyes.

Lou just dropped the gun, sighed, and was out.

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Sam was already in the Impala when he heard the shot. He gunned the engine, tearing down the driveway at warp speed. Racing out of the car, he burst back into the barn, seeing the aftermath of what he knew he'd just heard. He was terrified to see that Lou's eyes were no longer open, and he wasn't even sure she was breathing.

He maneuvered his way around her so he could scoop her up into his arms, careful not to touch the offending metal. He was right about one thing, it had gone clean through. A good inch of the tip had broke through the flesh in her chest. There was only a slight trickle of blood from the front, but the entry wound was another story now. There had barely been any blood at first, now her whole back was covered in it.

He carried her out to the Impala, trying as gently as possible to lay her down in the back seat. "Screw Dean's car, let it get blood on it," Sam barked, closing the door. Climbing into the drivers seat, he tore off, straight back to the hospital.

Pulling out his phone, Sam hit the speed dial for the number he'd used to call Lou. He prayed someone would answer.

"Hello, can I help you?" A hesitant voice on the other end answered.

"Who's this? Is the emergency room?"

"Yes it is, who's this? This is a private line. Who are you looking for?"

"This is Sam…uh…(shit, what the hell name had he used)..Kilmister. I'm a friend of Dr. Carpenter. I have her with me, and she needs medical attention fast. I'm about ten minutes away, and I'll be bringing her right in. She's got a dagger lodged in her back, and she's losing blood fast."

"She has a WHAT lodged in her back?"

"A dagger… it's a long story. She told me not to pull it out, said she'd bleed to death if I did, so I didn't touch it. We're almost there, please, you've got to help her."

"We'll be ready, don't worry. You just get her here in one piece."

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Sam screeched up to the ER doors, and sure enough, they were there waiting for him. They awkwardly got her out of the car, placed her on a gurney, and wheeled her away. As she disappeared through the same two doors Dean had, he had the sickest form of déjà vu he'd ever had.

Minutes seemed like hours, and Sam couldn't stand waiting anymore. After the last week, he was all waited out. He forced his way through the doors, searching everywhere for Lou. The ER was empty, not a patient in sight.

He was approached by a young doctor, probably fresh out of med school. "Sam? Are you Sam?"

"I'm Sam, who are you?"  
"Dr. Edwards. They already took Dr. Carpenter upstairs. They need to surgically remove that 'thing' in her back. They think it's lodged right next to an artery. It's going to be very tricky getting that out. They told me to tell you they'd be more than happy to contact you in your brother's room. Or, you can head upstairs to the waiting area."

"I think I'll head up to the waiting area. I don't think I can explain this to my brother right now anyway." 'Yeah, how the hell do I tell Dean that yet another person might die trying to save him., he thought.

Sam hit the elevator, knowing all too well the way he had to go. It had been hours since he left Dean, but until he could tell him something, he wasn't going anywhere near him. So he'd just sit and wait.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Three hours later, it was finally over, and Sam knew he had to face his brother. He couldn't put it off any longer. Down the elevator he went, slowly walking the distance to Dean's room. The second he walked in, he was hit with a verbal barrage worthy of John Winchester himself.

"SAM, WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN! You've been gone for hours, or more like almost a day. I know you're pissed at me, but what the hell were you thinking. And nobody seems to know where Lou is either. I sure as hell didn't think she'd take that argument totally seriously. Do you know what you missed while you were playing around?"

"I can imagine," Sam just stared at the floor.

"What the hell's wrong with you Sam? If I believed in a god I'd thank him Sam. I can feel my legs again."

Sam had heard enough ranting from his brother. He was about ready to break. "DEAN, SHUT UP! I know you can feel your legs, I know your fever broke and is normal. I know more than you do."

"Come again? Did I miss something?"

"Not just something, everything. If you'll just shut up for five minutes, I'll tell you."

"I'm all ears Sam, start talking." Sam's tone was scaring Dean, and he knew why. He couldn't remember the last time Sam used that tone of voice, but he positive it meant bad news.

Sam started relaying the events of the night to Dean, from the beginning that he knew of. He explained all about Iris. How she'd started this whole mess with that she-creature, how she was keeping him sick to keep him there, how she just couldn't let him go. He told Dean about the spell she was casting, how Lou tried to stop her, and what Iris did to retaliate. He also told him that Iris was dead.

"Iris heard us arguing, Dean. She tried to kill Lou because of it. She thought she was in love with you. She knew it was her fault what happened to you, and it must have twisted her somehow. She had some kind of need to care for you."

Dean just stared, open mouthed, totally in shock. Sam tried to continue, but Dean just stopped him.

"Where is she Sam? I want to see her, NOW!"

"Dean, you can't get out of bed yet, your back …"

"Either you find me a chair and wheel me wherever she is, or I'm gonna pull out this piss tube, and go find her myself."

"Ok, let me see what I can do. And don't pull that out Dean, that'd be a really bad idea." Sam left in a desperate search for a chair. He didn't think Dean could walk up and down the halls, but he was pretty sure he'd try. The only thing he'd succeed in doing was hurting himself more.

He went to the nurses station, and explained what he needed. He was in a sense, asking for help. He also told the nurse it really wasn't an option either. Once Dean's mind was made up, there was no stopping him.

Returning to Dean, chair in hands and nurse right behind, he wheeled right up next to the bed. "She said she'll let you go Dean, but you have to let me put you in that chair, and everything stays attached. EVERYTHING."

"You want me to shine your shoes too? Just get me in the fucking chair, and let's go."

Sam put one arm under Dean's back, and another under his shoulders, and as he lifted, the nurse supported his legs. Easing him down into the chair, he tried to breath deeply as he waited for the pain the movement had caused to subside. Sam attached the IV to the chair pole, and just waited for Dean to let him know when the pain had passed enough to move.

It took a couple minutes, but seeing Dean's face ease slightly, he asked. "Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be. Let's go."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They didn't have far to go. In fact, it was right across the hall. And it was Dean's turn to feel sick when he laid eyes on her. "Is this what I looked like Sam?"

"Just about, except she's prettier." Sam's attempt at humor failed miserably.

Sam pushed Dean as close to the bed as possible. Neither one of them noticed the doctor come in right behind them.

"Sam, and Dean, right?" I'm Dr. Dan Scott. I'm sure you don't remember me, Dean. We didn't meet under the best of circumstances. Seems we're making a habit of it."

"You're telling me. How is she? Is she gonna be ok?" Dean needed to hear it all, not Sam's sugar coated, fairy tale version.

"Well, that dagger, god I can't believe I just said that, entered just left of center. It lodged itself between the spinal column and the shoulder blade. Somehow, it went right between two ribs, through the lung, and out again through her chest. It was pressed against a major artery, putting a small tear in it. She would have bled out if you'd pulled it out Sam, just as she suspected. We had a difficult time getting it out without causing anymore damage. By the time we got that tear sewn up, she'd already lost too much blood and had gone into shock. Her temperature dropped, and her kidneys have started shutting down. We're trying to get the blood volume back to normal, but the respiratory distress is making it difficult. She's intubated, we're trying to control her blood pressure with medication, and we may need to start her on dialysis. If the kidneys shut down completely, it will only be a matter of time before other organs shut down as well. If that happens, there'll be nothing we can do. I'm sorry. I wish I had better news for you. I'll leave you alone now, but Dean, don't think you're sitting in that chair all night. I've already reviewed your chart, and you are going to be in a world of hurt if you keep that kind of pressure on your back for an extended period of time. We don't want those fractures to heal improperly."

"Right now, WE don't care," Dean responded.

As Dr. Scott left the room, he left them with one more comment. "You know, she's a good friend of mine, so I know how you feel. If she can make it through the next twenty-four hours, I may start to have a little hope. Right now, I'd just say pray. I'm sorry." And he was gone.

Sam broke the silence. "Dean, I hate to say it, but you may want to make your peace now, before it's too late."

"It won't ever be too late Sam. She'll make it. She's s fighter."

"Dean, you heard what he said. It will be a miracle if she makes it until morning."

"I heard what he said Sam. She won't need a miracle. She'll be fine. She's a Winchester."

Sam looked like someone had just punched him in the gut and drove all the air in his lungs out. "What did you just say?"

"I said she's a Winchester, Sam. She's our sister."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"What, exactly are you trying to say Dean? You're saying Dad had a kid before he met mom. Is that what you're telling me?"

"You've been begging for the truth Sam, here it is. You sure you really want to hear it? Guess it's not what you thought it was, is it. You've been begging for answers your whole life, guess it's time you found out."

Dean took a deep breath before he began. "Dad was seventeen. A bunch of his friends went to prom together as a group. Lou's mom was a friend of a friend in the group. Her and Dad must have hit it off, because one thing obviously led to another, and, well I think you can figure out the rest. They hung out for most of the summer after, nothing serious, but in the fall, she left. Dad didn't know where she'd gone too. She was just gone, and she didn't even say goodbye."

"Her parents sent her away to live with her grandparents when they found out she was pregnant. She lived there until Lou was born. They were gonna force her to give Lou up for adoption, so she just took off with her. Guess that wasn't an option."

"When her mom died in that fire, Lou's obvious next of kin would be her father. That was Dad. You know what was going on then, and it took them three months to track Dad down. Dad didn't know what to do with another kid, hell, he couldn't figure out what to do with us, so he dumped her off on Pastor Jim."

Sam interjected his first question," Why didn't Dad tell us Dean? Why would he keep that from us?"

"Did you miss the part about her mom dying in a fire Sam?"

"You're not saying what I think you're saying, are you?"

"May 2, 1984. That was the day of that fire. That was the day her mom died. That date ring a bell?"

Sam didn't answer, he didn't need to. Dean just continued.

"Dad knew our whole family was a target, but he didn't know from what, not yet, anyway. So he kept the fact that she was family to himself. The only other person that knew was Pastor Jim. And nobody could keep a secret like that guy."

Sam's question number two, "If all this was so top secret, how the hell did you find out? If Dad didn't tell you, and Jim didn't, how do you know all this? You know they both would've taken it to their graves."

"They did take it to their graves. Do you remember how much time we used to spend at Jim's? Dad always wanting to stay there, always dumping us off there. It was the closest thing to a home we had. And every time we were there, Dad and Jim would argue. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. Her learning to fight, hunt, school, guys she was dating, clothes she wore, crap like that."

"So, you were listening to them? You were spying, Dean?"

"Not my fault they couldn't argue quietly. I knew something wasn't right, but I knew for sure the night they had the big blow up. When it was time for her to leave for school. Dad and Jim fought about that for weeks. Dad said she had to go, Jim said she was an adult and could do whatever she wanted. Dad finally said '_She's my daughter Jim, and if I say she goes, she goes.' _And that was that."

"I may have only been eleven, but I wasn't stupid. I knew exactly what Dad said. And I got mad. Mad that nobody told us. We deserved to know, didn't we?"

Sam had an epiphany. "Is that what has been stuck up your ass for the last seventeen years? And if it is, why are you mad at Lou? If you should be mad at anyone, you should be mad at Dad. He was the one that kept that a secret."

"Do you remember how we used to tell each other everything, Sam? We had no secrets between us. Then I found out we did, and it was a big one. I understand why Dad never told. He wanted to keep all of us safe, and he never told us shit anyway. But we trusted each other with everything, Why couldn't she trust me with this secret? I would have kept it Sam. Hell, I did keep it for seventeen years, never told anyone that I knew the truth."

"Maybe you should have Dean? Did the thought ever occur to you that she didn't say anything because she didn't know? Maybe she didn't tell you because she couldn't."

"She knew Sam. Dad made her swear she'd never tell, just like Jim. He told her it could get her killed. He told her nobody could ever know she was a Winchester. And nobody ever said a word. Don't you think that was a little harsh?"

"So, you turn against her for doing something you've been doing your entire life?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean didn't know where Sam was going with this one.

"Obeying Dad's orders, Dean. She followed Dad's order, just like you always did. How can you fault her for that?"

"It's different Sam."

"How is it different? He gave you an order, you followed it. He gave her an order, she followed it. Seems pretty cut and dry to me and pretty hypocritical of you."

"There's a big difference between Dad ordering me on a salt and burn, or Dad sending me coordinates, or telling me to look out for you or telling me to deny my family and my name. It's apples and oranges, Sam."

"Not in John Winchester's mind. And she was just a kid, and so were we. You can't blame her for any of this."

"Well, I can, and I did, and there's nothing I can do about it now."

"Yes there is Dean. You can swallow your macho Winchester pride, and apologize for being a prick for over half your life. Maybe, just maybe, you can forgive each other, and start over. I'm not saying any of this is right, but it's not anyone's fault either."

"You make it sound so easy Sam."

"That's because it is Dean. And we've got a lot to apologize for. We had each other when we lost Dad, but she had no one. Here, I thought I was just calling her to let her know as a courtesy, since she was so close to Dad. Do you know how I feel to know I was calling her to tell her yhay her father was dead. And who did she have Dean? Nobody. And you knew that, and still said nothing. We could have been there for each other, but because of your misguided anger, she was alone. Her family is gone Dean, all of it. You don't think she would have welcomed us in?"

"You wanna pack me my bags before you send me on the guilt trip Sam?"

"And who was there for her when she lost her family, Dean? Dad lost a grandson, you lost a nephew, but she lost everything. The only known family she had was gone in one night. And I didn't even know I had a nephew. Do you know how much that would have meant to me? But that's not her fault. That's Dad's fault."

"Sam, there's more."

"What do you mean, there's more? How much more can there be?"

"The accident. It wasn't an accident. And that, I'm pretty sure she doesn't know. Dad checked it out, had some kind of proof, but never told her. She was supposed to be in that car, and if she had been, all three of them would be dead. He was sure it was that yellow eyed bastard. If we hadn't been there Sam, who knows what would have happened. Maybe they wouldn't have been killed at all. Maybe they would have been left alone. They weren't a threat, so why take them out? Maybe it was my fault. If we hadn't shown up when we did…"

"And maybe all your head injuries over the years have given you brain damage? How could any of this be your fault? You've got to stop blaming yourself for everything. You can't always carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, Dean. It's just too damn heavy. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. That bastard wants me for some reason, and will kill anyone that gets in his way."

"You two jackasses need to stop blaming yourselves, and put the blame where it's due," That voice was unmistakable.

Sam acknowledged him first, "Bobby? What are you doing here?"

"I was listed as next of kin, but I guess that's not entirely true now, is it?"

"How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough to tell me why I always wondered why she looked so much like your daddy. I guess I don't need to ask what the hell the two of you are doing here, do I Dean?" He gave Dean the once over with his eyes, and just shook his head.

Rolling his eyes in his wheelchair, Dean answered "No sir, I guess not."

"I'll be down the hall, I guess I got some papers to fill out. Want me to sign a DNR. Don't know what the hell I need to sign it for, it's in her living will for cry eye."

"THEY WANT YOU TO SIGN A WHAT?" Dean was more than mildly panicked by that revelation.

"You heard me boy, I didn't stutter."

"You can't do that?"

"And why not? It was her choice Dean, not mine. I'm just honoring her wishes. And she ain't dead yet anyway, so what're ya all worked up about."

"Bobby, please, you can't sign that. Not yet. Just wait until tomorrow. If she isn't better, or if she's worse, then sign, but not now Bobby, please? Just give her a small chance."

Bobby couldn't stand to hear Dean beg. "Alright, for your sake, I'll wait 'til tomorrow. But someone's gonna start explaining to me what the hell is going on here, tonight."

Sam told Bobby everything, starting from the beginning, and tried his best not to leave anything out. He told his tale quickly, not really wanting to relive any of it a second time. He was mentally exhausted, and there wasn't much more he could take. When he'd finished, Bobby stated what should have been the obvious to both hunters, had their minds not been so clouded.

"Either one of you got your heads on enough to figure out what to tell the cops? And what about this Iris broad? Cops are gonna start askin' questions, either one of you geniuses got any answers?" Bobby was always an expert at damage control.

Sam looked bewildered for just a moment then copped some attitude before responding, "Aw, shit Bobby, the thought never crossed my mind, with trying to save Lou's life and all, you know, guess I didn't have my priorities quite straight, did I?"

"Don't take that tone with me boy. I'm trying to look out for you, not bring you down. Do you want my help or not?"

"Bobby, whatever you can do to take care of this, we'd be more than grateful. I don't think either one of us can right now," Dean replied, trying to cut off Sam's brief tirade.

Bobby shook his head in acknowledgement, knowing that was Dean's way of apologizing for his brother's outburst. "Tell me where I can find this barn. I'll take care of it. You two just play stupid if the cops show up. That shouldn't be too hard for you to do, Dean."

"Hey.."

"You haven't left here in days, right. How the hell could you know what was going on?"

"Oh yeah, right."

"Sam, all you know it that this Iris chick asked you to meet her, and it was all over by the time you got there. You found Lou like that, and Iris was gone. That's all you know, you got it?"

"I got it. Bobby, what are you gonna do?"

"Don't worry about it, I got it covered. The less you know, the better. Now, give me some directions, and if anyone asks, you never saw me. I think you boys have some issues to work out, and you don't need me hanging around while you do. I'll be back when I'm done."

"Thanks. I don't know what we'd do without you Bobby."

"Me either."

When Bobby was gone, Sam tried to pick up where they'd left off. "What do we do now, Dean? We can't just go on pretending we don't know anything."

"Why not? It's what Dad wanted."

"No Dean, Dad wanted to hide the fact that there was another Winchester. And what Dad wanted is NOT what we wanted. And in case you hadn't noticed, Dad's gone. Keeping this all a secret didn't protect a damn thing. No matter what we do, bodies keep piling up. Mom, Lou's mom, Dad, Jess, Pastor Jim, Caleb, Rick, Jason, how many more? We need to stick together Dean, we're all we have left."

"I don't think I can Sam, I don't think I even know how."

"Well, just stop being an asshole, that'd be a good start. You two are so much alike. Tough on the outside, soft on the inside. But that inside is surrounded by brick walls, and dynamite couldn't even bring them down. And you've both got a lot of buried pain. You may not like each other, but you do love each other, and you could try to respect each other. And maybe, you can build from there."

Dean just sat silent, listening to every word Sam said. God, he hated it when Sam was right. All his anger had washed it's way out as he finally purged himself of the secret he'd carried for all these years. The realization finally striking him for the first time. Even HE hadn't known until today why he'd been so bitter. He'd buried it so deep and refused to think about it he just forgot, and let the anger take over. Until he released it to Sam. He hoped now that he could get beyond it. He actually thought he wanted to.

"Dean, we have to tell her the truth about Rick and Jason. She deserves to know. We can't keep it from her."

"Oh yes we can Sam. What good will it do to tell her. They're dead, and it's only gonna make it hurt more. Just let it go Sam."

"But Dean, you're the one that said no secrets, remember. How long have you been keeping that one? As much as it may hurt, she needs to know everything."

"I can't tell her Sam. I just can't. You weren't there. You didn't see her. She never cried, never showed any emotion at all. It was scary, like she was dead inside. I don't know how she'd take it."

"What did you expect Dean? She had nobody to turn to. Do you think she could grieve with Dad? She definitely couldn't do it with you."

"She did grieve with Dad, in their own way. I saw it Sam, and I couldn't share in it. And that hurt even more." Dean hoped he caught the stray tear that ran down his face before Sam saw it. He failed.

"If you won't tell her, then I will. I know it will break her heart, but if she finds out we knew, that makes us no better then Dad. The secrets have to stop Dean, all of them."

"I know Sam"

The rest of the night was spent in silence, both brothers too deeply lost in their own thoughts to speak.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Dean, are you ok?" Sam gently shook his brother's arm.

Dean was breathing heavily, still sitting in the chair next to Lou's bed. He hadn't moved all night, and the pain in his back had reached well beyond intolerable hours ago. But Sam had fallen asleep, sitting up, his head resting gently on the other side of the bed. And Dean had no intentions of waking him up, even if it meant suffering the rest of the night. And suffer he did.

"I'm fine Sam."

"No your not. You're breathing like you just ran a marathon, your face is as white as rice, and you're shaking like a freshman on her first date with the quarterback of the varsity team. Do not tell me you're fine."

"Sam, please..."

"No Dean, you need to get out of that chair, and back into your bed. You heard the doctor tell you not to sit like that for very long. It's been hours, hell, it's so late in the morning, it's almost afternoon. You're going back to your room, and that's final."

Sam got up and walked out of the room, not even paying attention to whether Dean responded or not. They'd been at that bedside all night, and other then the nurses coming in to check on Lou, none of them ever disturbed him or Dean. And Sam knew damn well that unless someone made him, Dean had no intentions of leaving.

He returned with Dr. Scott and a nurse. He wasn't playing fair now, he brought reinforcements.

"Good morning Dean. How are you feeling?"

"With my hands, Doc."

He feigned amusement at the comment. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave for a while. I need to examine my patient in private, HIPAA regulations, you understand? I'm sure you'll be just fine in your room until I'm done. Why don't you let Nurse Lisa and Sam get you into bed for a while. Then, maybe you can come back later."

"How about if Sam and I just wait out in the hall? How long can your exam take?"

"I think it's going to take some time. You really should head back to your room for now. You know, I think I have a standing order from your previous doctor, something about some Haldol, or Thorazine, I think."

"You wouldn't."

"Yes, I would. The nice Nurse Lisa is going to give you some Demerol now, and you are going to go get some sleep. I think by tomorrow morning, we may even be able to move you to a private room, unless you have a relapse of some kind," Dr. Scott winked at Dean.

Sam knew exactly what he meant. And Sam knew if Dean got moved off this floor, Dean would check himself out, no ifs, ands, or buts. And Sam wasn't letting that happen. Dean was not ready to leave the hospital yet, not by a long shot.

"Hey doc, you know, I think he's still got a fever. He may need to stay here a few more days, just in case."

"Why Sam, you may be right. If he gets into bed, maybe I can arrange that. If not, we may need to move him out. What do you say Dean?"

"You guys suck." And he sat there, in pain, sulking like a child.

Sam started wheeling his brother towards the door, when Dr. Scott stopped him. Bending down and whispering to Dean, "I know more then you think I do, and I understand why you don't want to leave, but you are not going to neglect yourself, because if I let you, I'll have to deal with her later. You ever see a hungry pit-bull with a piece of raw meat? I'd be the meat. You understand?"

"You don't gotta tell me." And with that, Sam wheeled him out.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bobby finally returned sometime that afternoon, his mission a complete success. He said absolutely nothing. What the Winchesters didn't know couldn't get them in trouble. He found Sam in Lou's room, alone, just staring into space.

"Sam, you ok?"

Sam hadn't noticed the man walk in until he spoke to him. Shaking his head, he looked over at Bobby, sighed, and answered. "I think so."

"I miss anything? Where's Dean?"

"Back in his room. He'll be there a while, they drugged him up pretty good. Sitting in that chair all night did a number on him."

"Leave it to Dean. The master of self punishment. Doc been here lately?"

"Yeah, no change, but I guess that's good. Things aren't' much better, but at least they aren't worse."

"That's a start."

"Hey Bobby, did you know any of this?"

"Nope. Suspected, but never knew for sure. We all did. Your daddy was way too protective of her. I think that's why he sent her away. Figured if she was far from this life, she'd be safe. Guess he was wrong."

"Do you think that's why he never told us?"

"Sam, I never tried to figure out what John Winchester thought. There aren't enough breaths in a lifetime for that. If I had to guess though, keeping you separate meant keeping at least one of you alive."

"But wouldn't all have been safer together?"

"How much safer could you all have been? John protecting you two, Jim protecting her? They couldn't get to you all. And by the time you were all grown up, you'd learned pretty well how to protect yourselves."

"Maybe that's why they just go after the people we love, because they can't get to us."

"Maybe. You'll probably never know though."

"You're probably right. You think she's gonna be ok?"

"She comes from good stock, doesn't she?"

"Yeah. You sign that paper?"

"Nope. Not my place, I'm not family."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

It had been a very long eight weeks. Very long, and very painful. Bobby had long since gone, leaving them alone. They needed time alone. They needed to heal and regroup. The regrouping part was easy, the rest they weren't so sure about.

Dean stepped out onto the deck and into the cool night air, a beer in each hand. After weeks of physical therapy, he was finally feeling normal, well, almost normal, anyway. He'd finally been able to go a whole two days without some kind of pain killers. Beer didn't qualify in that department. Easing himself into a chair, he handed a beer to the right, and just sat back staring into the star-filled sky.

"Nice night."  
"Yeah, it is."

"Remember when we were kids, we used to lay in the grass and stare at the stars for hours?"

"Yeah, and you gave them your own names, Dean. Orion's belt you named Angus, Malcolm, and Bonn. And the Big Dipper's handle, you named that Plant, Page, and Bonzo."

"Just honoring the greats. Isn't that how they're made immortal?"

"That's what I hear."

"So, I've been thinking.."

"I think that's a first for you, Dean."

"Would you shut up and listen for a minute, I'm trying to be serious here."

"Another first Dean, you're on a roll now."

"Shrew."

"Jag."

"Seriously, I just want to say tha…."

The patio door opened, and the group was complete. "Hey, what are you two talking about?"

"Nothing Sam, grab a beer and join us," Dean suggested.

"Already got one." Sam joined them on the deck, all three just staring at each other, not really sure what to say.

Lou spoke first. The sooner it got started, the sooner it would be over.

"Is this where the two of you tag team me now? Two against one isn't very fair, don't you think? Of course, in the battle of wits, I am dealing with two unarmed men."

They'd all engaged in small talk the last few weeks, but none of them had even attempted to bring up the subject they knew they'd inevitably have to work out amongst them. They just danced around it like fireflies at a campfire, curious, but knowing if they got too close, they'd get burnt.

"You knew it had to happen some time, didn't you?" Sam was asking the questions, and Dean was more then happy to let him take the lead.

"I was hoping for later, or never."

"Well, later and never is now, so let's have it."

"Have what Sam, my good reasons for hiding who I am? I can't give you one because I don't have one. Not a good one, anyway. I did what I was told, keeping that secret. Then, when I got older, it just seemed natural. And then Dean, well, we know what happened between us, and I thought there was no point. It seemed pretty obvious he didn't want anything to do with me anymore by the way he behaved."

"That's not true," Dean's turn to speak now. "The way I behaved was because you kept quiet. I wanted to hear it from you, not from Dad and Jim from behind closed doors."

"I couldn't tell you, don't you get it. I wanted to, I really did, but I just couldn't. My mom was already dead, and John told me if I wasn't careful, I could end up dead too. Or worse, you guys could. He said being a Winchester was dangerous, so I was to pretend I wasn't one. And that was that. When John Winchester spoke, you listened. You both know that."

"Why didn't you tell me, when I contacted you after Dad died? He was gone, there was no reason to keep that secret anymore. His reasons were bullshit anyway, none of what he did protected you. The very things he tried to hide you from already knew who you were anyway. What difference did it really make, except for keeping us all apart? All the years we could have been together were wasted because Dad needed to hide it like some dirty little secret."

"Sam, that's not fair, Dad's reasons were always because of us," Dean shot him a look. The 'Don't Start In On Dad' look.

"No, they weren't Dean. How did hiding the fact that we had a sister help us? Look what it did to you. That wasn't right. And we could have done a better job protecting each other. Maybe, some of the horrible things that happened would have been stopped before they started." Sam was on a roll now.

Lou looked puzzled. "What things are you talking about Sam? John would probably still be dead, and you two would still be fugitives. Nothing would have changed any of that. It was all out of your hands. And what the hell did I need any protection from. Up until Crazy Iris, I was left alone."

Dean cleared his throat, "Sam." Lou saw the way he looked at Sam, and heard the tone of voice when he said his name. And she knew he was hiding something.

"What are you not telling me?"

Sam started to speak, but Lou cut him off. "No Sam, I want to hear it from Dean. You know something Dean, and you're gonna tell me what it is."

"I can't."

"You can, and you will. We may as well get everything out in the open. No reason to hide anything anymore."

Dean wasn't sure he could do this, but he knew he really had no choice. Clearing his throat, and trying to clear his mind, he began.

"Lou, Dad found out some things about the accident you may not want to hear, but if you really want to know, I'll tell you."

Her face instantly turned white, "I really want to know Dean."

"Dad checked into the driver of the other car. He wasn't drunk. Blood alcohol level was next to zero. And he said he wasn't in control of himself. He knew he was driving, but couldn't stop anything he was doing. He said he tried to stop the car, but he couldn't make his body obey his brain. Said it was like watching himself on TV. And when it was over, it was like nothing had ever happened. That's why the cops assumed he was drunk. You'd have to be drunk or crazy to make that shit up."

"Or possessed," Sam added.

Dean continued, "He went to check out the cars too. The smell was there, lingering in the car that hit them. And that's when Dad knew. He knew it was no accident."

Lou just stared at Dean, the wheels in her head could be seen turning through her eyes as she tried to absorb what she had just heard, and tried to figure out just what to say next.

"And neither one of you could have told me this sooner? You stayed with me for all that time after, knowing what had happened, and didn't tell me. How could you do that?"

"He felt guilty."

"Bullshit! Guilty for what?"

"Getting them killed. He got drunk the night of the funeral, said it was his fault, our fault. If we hadn't come to you, that bastard would have left you alone. He never meant for any of this to happen."

"How the hell did he think that you coming to me that night caused any of that?"

"He said I probably would have died that night if you hadn't helped me. He said the demon tried to kill you so you couldn't. You'd be dead, and so would I. But it didn't happen that way. Demon's got a pretty shitty track record for killing Winchester blood, but he sure is good at getting everyone else."

"Jason was a Winchester, demon got him, didn't he." Dean didn't know what to say to that. He just hung his head down, staring at the empty bottle in front of him.

"John Winchester sure did a bang up job fucking up all our lives, didn't he. I'm tired, I'm going in now. I'll see you in the morning." And with no further discussion, Lou entered the house, slamming the door behind her.

"You think we should follow her, Dean?"

"No Sam, just leave her alone. She needs to work this out herself. If she wants us, she'll let us know."

The subject was not brought again over the final two weeks Sam and Dean stayed. They'd made their apologies, and only wanted to look forward, not to the past. Dean and Lou even started talking like friends again. They had a silent understanding between them. They both knew that no matter what, they were family. And family mattered most.

Dean also knew that they had to get back on the road though. They knew they still had work to do. They'd packed their belongings, loaded up the car, and prepared to say their goodbyes.

"I never finished thanking you, you know, for everything you did. I treated you like shit, but you didn't let that stop you. And I'm alive because of it."

"You're welcome. And don't worry, I won't tell Sam you just turned mushy for a minute there. Just don't be strangers, Ok. But when you do show up, make sure you're both on two feet for a change."

"Not promising anything there, you know that Sam, he's pretty clumsy. Always getting himself hurt."

"Yeah, right. Take care of yourself Dean, and let Sam take care of you once in a while too. There's no crime in it."

"Yeah, but there'd be a lot of grief later. No thanks, I think I'll pass." Dean gave her the first hug he'd given her in over seventeen years, and was surprised by how good it felt. He almost didn't want to let go, until he heard Sam coming. He silently got in the car, and waited for his brother.

"Sam, I want to talk to you for a second. Take this with you, use it for emergencies." Lou handed him a debit card, with his name on it. His real name. Sam Winchester.

"What's this for?"

"It's for when you need it. I got it covered. No questions asked, unless I see shit on the bill for strip joints, or porn. Then I'm gonna personally come and kick your asses, got it?"

"Yeah, I got it. I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything, just take it, and don't tell Dean. Some things really should stay secret."

Sam tucked the card into his wallet, and matched Dean's display of affection, hugging her like he thought he'd never see her again.

"One more thing, Sam. I loaded your bags with some new clothes. You guys really need to do laundry more often. I threw most of your old socks and boxers out. Probably should've burned them. You call if you need anything, and I mean anything, you got it?"

"Wouldn't call anyone else." Sam got in the car, and they headed out, watching behind them in the mirror as they left, not as happy to leave Illinois behind as they usually were.

They'd been on the road for an hour, when Dean forgot the little treasure he'd tucked into his pocket. Pulling it out, he smiled briefly at Sam, then stuck the tape into the deck. Sam was so shocked at what he heard from the speakers, he was rendered speechless.

_And even though the moment passed me by  
I still can't turn away  
'Cause all the dreams you never thought you'd lose  
Got tossed along the way  
And letters that you never meant to send  
Get lost or thrown away _

_And now we're grown up orphans  
That never knew their names  
We don't belong to no one  
That's a shame_

_But if you could hide beside me  
Maybe for a while  
And I won't tell no one your name  
And I won't tell em' your name_

"Goo Goo Dolls? Since when do you listen…"

"Driver picks the music Sammy…'

"Yeah, I know, shotgun shuts his cakehole, but I swear, the second I hear '_Iris'_ out of those speakers, that tape goes out the window."

"Dude, don't ever throw anything out the window."

End Notes: Ok, so it's not one of my best stories, but it was the first one I wrote, so thanks to all that read it. I hope you read my other ones, they really do get much much better. :-)


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